The Tales of Aulenmir
by Jaxzan Proditor
Summary: In the Fouth Age of Middle-earth, a family struggles to overcome their differences and work together. Meanwhile, in the Second Age, a young Prince named Aldarion must chose between love and the ocean. Slightly AU
1. Prologue

**I have updated this story on 8/16/15 to add in this prologue. Chapter 13 is hopefully to follow soon afterward. Please read and review!**

_13 years ago…_

Yarozj Varakutag approached the farmhouse. His mission, he had been told, was a simple one. When the appropriate signal was given, he was to enter the house and kill his target. All in all, a rather normal assignment, especially considering some of the other things Yarozj has done in his past. At least, that was how it appeared on the surface. For Yarozj Varakutag was an assassin, a hired killer, and had been for many years.

However, he had not always been an assassin, in fact, he had not always been called Yarozj. Although he know bore a Southern name, he was in fact born in Minas Tirith, the capital of the most glorious empire in the world: Gondor. He was born in 3002 T.A., just less than 16 years before the War of the Ring would begin. Yarozj's original name had been long lost to the mists of time; even Yarozj could scarcely remember it.

Yarozj's parents had been wealthy and well-connected before his birth, as they were some of the most full-blooded Númenóreansleft in Gondor. However, the next few years were very difficult ones for the people of Gondor, as the Dark Lord finally completed his return. They lost most of what they had, and it took all they had in order to give Yarozj a moderately comfortable living.

In his youth, Yarozj was a kind, compassionate boy, always keen to stop the suffering of others. As he grew older, he became more and more respected by his community. However, all that was about to change. When Yarozj was 15, he and his father enlisted in the Army of Gondor to help fight. Both of them were present at the battle of Pelenor as combatants. However, only one of them left the battle alive. Both men had been stationed near the gates of Minas Tirith when King Théoden had made his entrance into the battle. Yarozj could still remember the horrifying screams of the Witch King when he died. His father died fighting some Haradrim shortly afterward. Yarozj only narrowly escaped with his life.

After the War of the Ring concluded, Yarozj was one of many veterans awarded for his bravery during the War. However, Yarozj had changed in that one battle. He was no longer the caring man he had once been; now his focus was ever only on death.

Yarozj's situation was not helped by other factors at home. He had trouble finding a job, for his mind kept drifting back to the war. No job could content him for very long and he soon left most of the ones that he found. To make things worse, his mother fell sick and was unable to work, leaving the family soon short of money and forced to sell most of what they owned.

Stricken by grief, Yarozj's mother soon grew sicker and sicker, eventually passing away in 2 F.A. This was the final straw for Yarozj. The night after his mother's funeral, he crept away from Minas Tirith, heading south to Harad. He soon put up his services as a killer-for-hire. This was an occupation most needed in Harad, where bitter battles for succession combined with the takeover by Gondor had turned the landscape into a battlefield. He renamed himself Yarozj Varakutag (meaning Deadly Lord in one local language) and became a prominent assassin.

Yarozj had taken on many jobs in his life, and had completed each one successfully. That's not to say that there had never been any problems, because mistakes were always made in his line of work. However, Yarozj became famous for his ability to recover from mistakes that would leave any other assassin dead. Indeed, Yarozj became quite successful, making plenty of money from the turmoil of the civil war.

Unfortunately, as Gondor's presence became stronger, they began cracking down on security, making the life of an assassin very difficult. By the time of 24 F.A., Yarozj was one of the few men still left in the business, and demand was shrinking by the minute. Ironically, it was the assassinations that had ruined business the most. Most of Yarozj's targets were also the men most likely to employ assassins. Eventually, all the war-minded men had been weeded out, replaced by cowardly men who sought peace.

Yarozj had been considering moving on to other locales where death was still in demand when he received a strange letter. The strangest thing about the letter was how it had found him. You did not get to be an assassin by advertising your location to every which person. Yet, somehow his contractors had found him, or deduced where he was going to be, and had this letter delivered to him. The letter in and of itself was also rather strange.

_Yarozj Varakutag,_

_We are writing to you to hire you to kill a man. If you accept this job, then meet us at Linhir in three weeks time._

_This man must be killed because he is a danger to us. He has threatened us and been cruel to us, forcing us to do many things against our will. For that, we have decided that he must be removed._

_It is not as though we could not dispose of him ourselves. However, it is best that this action not be tied back to us, and for that reason we have chosen you to be our killer. Do not fail us, or you will discover what it is like to be a target._

_We have gone to great lengths to find and contact you. Should you refuse our job, we will have to find someone else and that will take a great deal of time. Should you refuse, we will be most unhappy._

_Otetubiyt_

The letter still gave Yarozj the creeps just thinking about it. There was something so detached and alien in the writing, something that unnerved even a hardened killer like Yarozj. And then there was that strange sign-off at the end, in a language that Yarozj didn't even recognize. Not to mention how they had threatened him in the same letter they were contracting him.

However, Yarozj couldn't resist a job offer, especially when they were so hard to find in Harad these days. He made to trek to Linhir, a city on the banks of the Anduin in two weeks, leaving himself a week to prepare before he met his contractors.

On the day that he was expected to meet with them, Yarozj woke up to find a note slipped under his door.

_Meet us at the Shaky Warlord, a tavern in the middle of the town. There will be three of us, sitting at a table in the corner._

Yarozj felt a chill run down his spine. _How did they know I was here?_ He asked himself. He steeled himself, resolving to be ready for the conversation that was about to take place. He couldn't let his contractors unnerve him, or else they would be leading the discussion the whole way, something that would not end well for his pockets. He headed down to the tavern and quickly spotted three figures sitting by themselves. He sat down at the table, seated across from them.

All three of them wore hoods, cleverly concealing their true identities. There were a few minutes of silence as both parties waited for the other to begin talking. Finally, the hooded figure on the left spoke.

"Do you know why you are here, Yarozj Varakutag?" From the pitch of his voice, Yarozj surmised he was male. Most of his contractors were, but you never knew.

"I was told that you had a job for me," he said.

The man nodded. Then the figure in the center spoke. "That's right. We decided that we would discuss your fee prior to details of the operation. How does that sound?" This one, Yarozj decided was a woman.

"I don't like the sound of that so much. Seems like an easy way to trap me into a low payment for a difficult job. I don't really have the luxury to waste time like that," he replied smoothly.

This time, the figure on the right spoke. This one was also a man, but he sounded a little younger than the first man. "What if we told you that our price was 100,000 golden coins?"

Yarozj couldn't prevent his eyes from widening. "How could you possibly have that much money on you?"

The second man held up a piece of paper. "This is a voucher for that money. If you go to any of the national banks-"

"-set up throughout all of the Reunited Realms," interrupted the woman.

"Yes, that's correct," the man responded. Yarozj thought he detected a hint of annoyance in his voice. "If you go to any bank, you can use this voucher and collect your money. We will only authorize the voucher if the job is completed."

Yarozj leaned back in his seat. 100,000 was a lot of money. If he spent it carefully, there would never be any reason for him to seek work again. He could even try to find a way to make an easier living. His set of talents did allow for other better paying, if less exciting jobs. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. He narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you won't cheat me and not validate the voucher?"

The first man spoke again. "We thought you might ask that question." The man put a large bag onto the table. "There are many gems in here, each worth many times their own weight in gold. I estimate their value at about 20,000."

Yarozj looked inside the bag. His many years as an assassin had taught how to easily assess the value of many valuable, as well as to determine whether or not said valuables were real. His brief examination revealed nothing false about the gems.

"All right, I accept."

"Good." If Yarozj had been able to see the first man, he was sure that the man would be smiling now. "Our job is simple." The woman pulled out a very detailed map of Lebennin. She pointed to a location on the map.

"Memorize this map well, because you are going to need to know where this location is. At this location, there is a farmhouse. Your target lives there. Two weeks from now, you will hide out in the forest on the northern side of the farm as twilight. If the job is still on, a lantern will be lit outside of the house. If there is no lantern, the job is off. Return here and we will give you half of what we promised you for your troubles.

"As the night goes on, you will hear shouting. This will be your signal. When the shouting begins, enter the farmhouse. Inside, there will be several people. Your job is to kill the oldest of them. He will most likely be holding or using a knife. After you kill him, say these words." She handed him a scrap of paper. "After that, leave."

Yarozj nodded and stood up, clutching his bag in one hand. "I understand." He quickly walked out of the tavern, picked up his belongings from where he had been staying, and then left the town.

And now, Yarozj was waiting outside the farmhouse. As expected, a lantern had been lit outside of the door. Inside of the house, it was silent. In fact, there were almost no sounds at all. Yarozj was once more unnerved by this strange effect. It was very bizarre that even the animals were silent. However, when he heard shouting erupt from within the house, his momentary unease was forgotten.

He approached the farmhouse under the cover of the night, confident that no one had seen him. He was an assassin of the highest caliber, and he knew how to creep across the landscape. On one of his more exciting missions, he had been forced to cross an open field in the middle of the day. He had managed to do so entirely undetected, the only man of 50 "trained" assassins to do so.

Yarozj reached the door and opened it. Or, at the very least, attempted to open it and then promptly discovered it was locked. The assassin grit his teeth. This was a complication he had not been expecting.

At first Yarozj moved to pick the lock, but then he realized that the door had been barred from the inside. He sighed. He had not wanted to make a grand entrance, but apparently that was what was required of him. He drew his foot back, preparing to kick it in. An instant before he made contact with the door, a scream erupted from within the house. He quickly finished beating down the door and rushed inside.

Within the house, as he had been told, where several people. What surprised Yarozj was the apparent youth of some of these people. One of them looked like she was scarcely 18. All seven of them had been staring at something else, but when he entered they turned to face him and he was able to get a good look at what had held their attention.

At their table, a woman sat with a large knife wound across her throat. She was obviously dead. Sure enough, as he had been promised, there was a man holding a knife with blood on it. Suddenly, Yarozj grasped a fact that he hadn't realized until now: this was a family. A man had just killed his wife, and now Yarozj was about to kill him in front of his children. This was a little much even for the immoral Yarozj. However, the lure of money was still too strong. He lunged forward and slew the father instantly, screaming the words that had been written on the paper given to him.

"As you have dealt death unto others, now death has been dealt unto you!"

He then ran out of the house, never to accept a job as an assassin again.


	2. Chapter 1

_If there is one thing that represents Númenor above all other things, it is by far the ocean. No other natural element of this pristine world reflects so much of our lifestyle and spirit. There is something magnificent about the ocean that every honest man must respect. In fact sometimes I feel our island would be better named Azrubîl._

_The holds much significance to the ordinary person of Númenor. The sea is enduring and powerful, much like our empire is. It is present almost everywhere, through the many rivers of Arda. The sea is fierce, but loyal to those it has let enter its trust. It is for these reasons that Ossë and Uínen are the best-loved, and perhaps the only loved, out of all the Valar._

_In the midst of all the terror that is caused by the "religion" of Morgoth, these mystery cults persist. The ocean is indeed a thing beyond my comprehension, if it can inspire men to defy Sauron. But then again, perhaps it is not the sea, but belief itself that causes the defiance._

_I have already explained before how I feel about the ocean. I can indeed stomach ocean voyages (as almost every Númenorian can), but I do not feel the excitement that others feel about the sea. Still, I have been told repeatedly by Amandil that such a feeling is there, and there are very good reasons behind it._

_So many of our important discoveries and inventions come from the sea; the two largest bureaus are related to the sea, we focus most of our research on designing greater and greater ships, and we are known by the peoples of Endor for our sea voyages and exploration. I wonder if, when we are no more, will we be only remembered for our fascination with the seas?_

-From t_he Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

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><p>Aulenmir closed his copy of <em>Journals<em> and looked outside at the window. The snow was beginning to come down harder now, and it was getting steadily darker. Aulenmir stared at the letter in his hand. His sister had written him a few weeks ago regarding today. He read it again, although he had already memorized it.

_Dearest Brother,_

_This year has been a harsh year for those of us living in the Vale. The weather has not been its usual fair, calm state, making our harvest this year extremely mild. I am forced to ask for your help. I understand that things can be difficult for you up there, but I am terribly desperate._

_I am aware that when we last parted, it was not on the best of terms, but I hope that we can change this. I think that we should mend the breaks in this family rather than let ourselves be hurled to the far corners of this world. Speaking of which, Liriel has written me all the way from The Citadel of Gold, in the City-State of Burdesh, where she says she is a guest of the Grand Mekkar himself!_

_But, back to the point I was making, I feel it is imperative that we mend our family. We (the children and I) are going to visit you up in your mountainous home, during New Year's. There, I must ask you to do a large thing for me. I plan on bring the King's attention to the problem that faces us Valefolk. I will ask to petition him, and I expect this process to take several weeks._

_During this time, Peladin and Sirilfa will have nowhere to stay, and I cannot expect to bring them with me. Please, will you take care of them for me?_

_Much love, Telimperion_

"She does tend to go on an' on, doesn't she?" Aulenmir asked Noldolma, who did not respond. Noldolma was an old, near blind dog who had been living with Aulenmir longer than he had been living in the White Mountains. He had found her, abandoned by some farmer who couldn't afford to feed her, and had taken her in. She had followed him faithfully for over a decade and a half now, and showed no intention of stopping.

They had many such one-sided conversations. Noldolma tended not to do much, but she was a very good listener. Occasionally, on those very rare special occasions when she felt like responding, she would flick her ears or give a small sneeze. Aulenmir didn't mind. She listened to him, which was better than most humans. Or orcs, for that matter.

"You ever try to hold a conversation with one of them? No? Eh, no matter. I tried once, you know," continued Aulenmir, not caring whether or not he was the only participant in the conversation. "I gave the blighted a friendly wave, asked him what he was doing this far west, wondered if he had caught anything good. And you know what he did?" Aulenmir chuckled to himself, then went on. "He spat at me an' said 'it ain't none o' yer business, y' pushdug tark'. I once asked someone what that meant, they said it was some orcish swear or something."

Aulenmir stared at the letter again, mouthing the words scrawled there in Telimperion's fine hand. She had always been the "most civilized" of his siblings, in her own words. Despite her life as a farmer's wife, she bought fancy cloths and fine jewels. She had taught herself how to do sums and read and write. Being the older sister, she had forced these skills (but thankfully not the gemmery) on him.

Suddenly, a thought came to Aulenmir. Couldn't the kids stay with Telimperion's husband? He tried to recall his name. Oh, yes, Torenor. Indeed, why couldn't the children stay with him. As though she could read his thoughts, Noldolma gave a small, contrary sneeze. Then he remembered. Torenor had gotten a job that required him to be away from home frequently. Aulenmir couldn't quite remember what it was. Oh well. Aulenmir had a rather poor memory, a fact that he prided himself on and that Telimperion disproved of heartily. Well, that wasn't actually correct. He had a fantastic memory when it came to family history. This was a lot, actually.

Noldolma gave another sneeze, this one coupled with an ear flick, as if to say "get back on track". Aulenmir reminded himself of the problem at hand. It wasn't that he didn't like Telimperion, although she could be annoying. Their 'last parting' had been more of an upset for her than for him, anyways.

No, the problem was the actual favor she was asking. Almost a decade ago, Aulenmir had retreated up into the White Mountains to move away from the Vale where his family had originated. Most of his brothers and sisters had done the same, although most of them were motivated to merely get away from the family, not people in general.

No, all the company that Aulenmir needed was Noldolma and the cold mountain winds. Technically, he was not the only inhabitant of the White Mountains. Although few Gondorians ever ventured out here, there were tribes of men who had been living in these lands since before Morgoth had been thrust outside the walls of the world. These people, collectively known as the Ephûl, had helped Aulenmir survive his first year, then had left him to his own devices.

He wondered at his sister's desire to reunite the family. "Doesn't she remember why we split up in the first place?" He asked Noldolma. The dog, of course, made no indication that she had heard him. Aulenmir, realizing it was getting late, began preparing dinner for himself and Noldolma. He realized he would have to bring in more food tomorrow, since that was the date Telimperion was supposed to arrive.

Aulenmir read himself to sleep with Journals. That night, unlike most nights, he had a vivid dream. He was spinning in a circle, trapped in the middle of a wide expanse of water. There were faces in the water, who looked vaguely familiar, but Aulenmir didn't recognize a single one. They appeared to be murmuring at him, and their voices grew louder and louder, reaching a crescendo after a few minutes. Aulenmir came to realize that something was terribly wrong and he looked upwards to see...

* * *

><p>The Sun streaming in through the windows. Apparently the snow had stopped its tantrum long enough for Aulenmir to find some food. He got out of his bed and tucked the dream away in the back of his mind, where his poor memory would make short work of it. He got dressed, fed Noldolma, and together they both went outside. Romping across the snow was always fun, and it was one of the few times Noldolma moved with any speed. Not that she was lazy or anything, she just found it more and more difficult to run in her old age.<p>

"Let's see what our snares caught today, shall we?" No response from Noldolma, who was probably out of earshot anyways, having run ahead. In order to feed all his guests who would be arriving, Aulenmir would have to get lucky with his snares. Apparently, some Power had decided to smile upon him, for he found more food than he would have used on a normal day. After resetting the snares, he and Noldolma returned to his hut.

"So, what do I do about Telimperion?" Noldolma thumped her tail against the floor, then rolled over on her side, exposing her belly. Usually when she would do this, Aulenmir would pretend she had said something. Sometimes, Aulenmir swore she was actually communicating with him.

"Send her away? No, I can't do that. She may be annoying at sometimes, but she is family. It's the least I can do to hear her out. Hmm, it's been a while since I've seen the kids, hasn't it? I last saw them seven years ago, so Sirilfa would have been just born and Peladin would have been only one year old."

Aulenmir walked over to his bookshelf and selected another book to read, this one about the Rings of Power. If there was one thing he enjoyed doing above all others, it was reading, especially about history. There was something about reading up on events that occurred thousands of years ago that Aulenmir enjoyed, though he didn't quite know what that was.

As he made himself a small noon meal, it began to snow again. He predicted that before long, it would become a blizzard. Ailments felt sorry for Telimperion, Peladin, and Sirilfa. Since it was at least a week's journey from the Vale to his house, they had probably been traveling in weather like this as soon as they reached the mountains, which was probably two days ago.

Suddenly, there was a loud knocking at the door. Aulenmir jumped when he heard it; Noldolma, of course, remained as unspoken as ever. The knocking persisted, increasing in volume with every percussive thud. "Alright, alright, I'm comin'", Aulenmir muttered at the door. He pulled back the door to reveal his sister and her children standing there, shivering from the cold.

Before he could give them a proper greeting and ask them to come him, Telimperion reached to him and gave him a firm hug. Unused to contact, Aulenmir flinched, but Telimperion clung on to him. "Oh, Auly, I'm so glad your safe. I was truly worried sick when you didn't write me back".

Aulenmir had a few things to say about that statement (why did she have to use that childish name, for Eru's sake!), but pushed them aside and said "I'm so glad to see you, Tel. Come in, all of you". He opened the door further and motioned them in. Noldolma broke out of her state of inactivity to give the newcomers a cursory sniff, then settled back down in her bed.

As he was unused to real social interaction, Aulenmir said nothing as Telimperion, Peladin, and Sirilfa settled themselves in. Luckily, he didn't have to, for Telimperion chatted away the silence. She inquired as to how he had been, how the weather was in these parts, and the other usual pleasantries that she engaged in.

Telimperion had quite literally not changed a bit since they had last met. She was tall and thin, like most of Aulenmir's family. Unlike, the rest of the family, she had blue eyes and blond hair, which she kept loose. But, the core of Telimperion's character was her tone of voice. If Aulenmir had to sum it up in one word, he would call it "motherly". Her tone appeared to be personally fretting about whoever she talked to. She would constantly worry over people for minor things. However, when she need to, Telimperion became quite stern.

Aulenmir was glad to have a chance to talk to her. However, Peladin and Sirilfa were looking quite bored. He interrupted Telimperion's latest question (concerning his position on the growth of _Athelas_, of all things) to speak to them.

"And how are you two doing?" He asked. "I haven't seen you since you were this tall," he said, marking an approximate foot in the air. Sirilfa muttered something barely audible.

"Go on, speak up," encouraged Telimperion.

Sirilfa stared at the floor and shuffled her feet. Finally, she spoke up. "I got a gift for you, Unca'!" She squeaked, then held out her hands. She showed him a majestic ship, modeled out of clay, that she appeared to have created herself.

"She has quite a talent for sculpting," said Telimperion. "She spent about a week working on it."

"Well, thank you, Sirilfa," Aulenmir said, pocketing the gift. "So, who's hungry?"

"Oh, me," interrupted Peladin, who had been very quiet up until now. "We haven't eaten since-"

"Hush, Peladin," interrupted Telimperion. "There are many things I wish to talk about, and it is probably best to discuss them with a full stomach". They all sat down, as Aulenmir prepared dinner. Noldolma inched over to the table, probably looking for scraps.

After everyone had dug in, Telimperion cleared her throat and began to speak. "Children, I have a slight confession to make. I did not bring you here just to celebrate New Year's at your Uncle's house, as fun as that is. I have a serious journey I must undertake, one that you cannot go on. I have asked your Uncle to take care of you for the next few weeks."

Immediately, the protests began. "But, mother!"

"I don't wanna stay with Unca! I wanna go with you!"

"Silence!" Telimperion interrupted. "This decision is not your to make, it is all up to your Uncle".

All of them swiveled their heads around to stare at Aulenmir. Aulenmir stared into his food, not saying anything. He did not want to take care of his sister's children, and he did not relish having to take on that responsibility. On the other hand, Telimperion was family, and Aulenmir believed in sticking up for his family beyond all thing. He had a question to ask Telimperion before he would come to a decision.

"How long will you be away?" He asked gruffly.

"Only for a few months or so".

"_Only_ a few months! I can't take care of them for that long. There is no way I can catch enough food to support us all for more than a month!"

"The children will be glad to help you, I'm sure".

"No we won't," muttered Peladin.

Telimperion swung her fearsome gaze around to her children. "Yes, you will," she said in a flinty tone. Peladin went white and muttered an apology.

"But, I will have to teach them everything!" Aulenmir complained. Suddenly, another thought rose to the surface of his mind. "What have you taught them with regards to our family history?"

Telimperion saw a way she could convince her brother to take in her children. "Why, nothing," she said sweetly. "However, I'm sure they would be happy to learn".

Peladin spoke out again. "No we wouldn't!" he said stubbornly.

Aulenmir gave a fierce grin. "Oh, yes you will. However, I am willing to make you an offer. I will tell you a story about some ancestors of ours. If you like the story, I will tell you more of our history. If not, then I get to teach the valuable art of chopping wood. Deal?"

Peladin weighed the offer in his mind. Aulenmir could see him thinking hard about it. Finally, he said "Deal", and Sirilfa nodded in agreement.

"What story?" said Telimperion.

"I was thinking of telling them of the Tale of Aldarion and Erendis".

"Oh, that's a good one. Well, what are you waiting for? Begin!"

Aulenmir cleared his throat, took a sip of water, and started.

"_At the dawn of time..._"


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter will be about how the children learn of the Silmarillion and goes into Aulenmir's family a little more.**

**Enjoy and please review!**

_A large weight of history surrounds our world, one that must be understood before any specific inquiries into our past can be made. For example, without any knowledge of Fëanor, how can one talk about the Kinslaying? The Elves were quite good at summarizing this wealth of knowledge, but even then it is quite difficult to get through it all, and that knowledge is so general that it leaves many readers with a near inaccurate view of what occurred in those times, to say nothing of how the Elves already have a remote perspective from ours!_

_I, however, am not the man to undertake the task of properly summarizing the Silmarillion, having not made it may task. My focus is even more specific, on the history of our great island and its inhabitants. For anyone who does try to summarize the Silmarillion, I recommend that they take the Elves' version and embellish it slightly, or else they may find themselves embarking on a life-long quest to write their summary!_

_Or better yet, skip the summary entirely! Talk about your specific subject and pray that the audience already knows of this large background of information. Assuming any knowledge of your audience is a dangerous thing in any profession, but here I fear it cannot be ignored, and on this Vanilmara and I quite agree!_

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

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><p>"Wait, you can't just start there!" Aulenmir shot Telimperion an icy glare, for it was she who interrupted his tale. "Who's telling this story, you or me?" he growled.<p>

"Sorry," she muttered, "but if you start at the real beginning it will take us months to get to the actual story."

"Believe me, I know what I am doing," said Aulenmir. "Anyways, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," he paused to glare at Telimperion, who slunk down in her chair, looking ashamed. "At the dawn of time…."

With that said, Aulenmir launched into a vivid description of the history of the world up through the First Age. He told of how the world was created, of Eru and the Valar, and of Melkor, the enemy. He told tales of Valinor, and of the Elves living there and of the Two Trees. Of Morgoth's treachery and of Fëanor and his oath.

He talked about how the Noldor came to Beleriand, and of their interactions with the Sindar. He talked about the princes of the Noldor and how the struggled to survive. With great detail, he discussed the many wars that occurred, and showed how Morgoth was winning, until the War of Wrath and the destruction of Beleriand.

The children listened to him, utterly enraptured. Aulenmir found a way to express stories that they may have otherwise found boring exciting and amusing. They loved his strange analogies, beautiful metaphors, and insights on the decisions that were made at that time. Although Aulenmir drew most of his story from the tales that he had learned from the Elves when he was younger and had explored Arnor, he also drew from other sources, written by mortal men long after those events had taken place.

Occasionally, they interrupted him to ask questions, until Aulenmir finally put a stop to that practice in the interest of finishing this part of his story in one night. He wanted to finish this part all by tonight for two reasons. First, he wanted Telimperion to hear all of it again, since he knew she loved his story telling. Second, getting the story all out of the way in one night gave him more time to tell the real story.

Most of the children's questions had to do with things they didn't believe or where shocked by. Sirilfa questioned why Vana and Estë seemed to have very few powers among the Valar, and was shocked by the Kinslaying in Alqualondë, asking how Fëanor could do such a thing. Peladin, for his part, wondered why there were so many different kinds of Elves, and asked why there were so many different names for all the places and people. He was fascinated by the idea of Quenya and Sindarin, and all the other different Elven languages, some of which Aulenmir promised to teach him.

The children were revising their opinion of Aulenmir. While at first they had been unwilling to stay with him, his skill at telling stories was beginning to win them over to him. He seemed to be a very funny and clever man, from their perspective. Aulenmir was also changing his mind about having them stay. While he had at first definitely been very opposed to the idea, he loved having someone to tell his stories to; it wasn't the same with Noldolma.

Aulenmir hoped that he had told the children enough to understand what he was going to be telling them the next night. The Tale of Aldarion and Erendis made very little sense without an idea of the background behind it. Aulenmir knew he was going to have to spend a large part of the next night explaining the history of Númenor up to when Aldarion was born.

However, the sun had long since gone down (not that Aulenmir could really tell, what with the blizzard, but he had an instinct for this sort of thing), everyone was getting quite sleepy, and Aulenmir liked to wake up early in the morning. So, he reached his conclusion and told the children that they would continue in the morning.

"Well, this seems like a fine place for us to stop. Let's get to bed and we'll continue tomorrow night. Aulenmir set up cots for the children to sleep on, promising them more permanent arrangements later on, but that the cots would have to do for now. Telimperion was to sleep on the only other bed in the house, and Aulenmir slept on his own bed.

After Telimperion and Aulenmir had settled the children down in their cots, they returned to the table to clean it up. "So," said Aulenmir, "When do you plan on heading to Minas Tirith?"

"As you know, my plight is one that must be resolved soon, or else we will all lose most of our money, or worse, starve. I will leave as soon as this blasted blizzard abates, and I will press on to the White City, resting as little as possible. Hopefully, King Elessar will receive me and hear my plea, or I don't what I'll do."

"Couldn't yer husband help?"

"Torenor, as you should be aware, is away on a long scouting trip to the East. He is scooping out the recent acquisition and is helping the surveyors determine the location of the regions capitol. He will not be back for years, and even if I were to try to communicate with him and ask him to return it would be months before he got back."

Aulenmir grunted, but didn't say anything else. He got out Telimperion's letter again and looked at it. "I notice you say you want to bring us all back together. What do you mean by that?" They both knew whom Aulenmir was referring to by "us".

"You remember how we parted, right?" Telimperion made sure to check that Aulenmir remembered; she knew that he didn't have the best memory at times.

"Of course I do," said Aulenmir. "How could I forget?"

"Well, then you will remember how we all promised to go our separate ways. Parthekos said he would head to the East, I decided to stay in the Vale, Altariel headed up to Arnor, Mermacil went to Minas Ithil, you came here, and Liriel headed south."

Aulenmir nodded. "Yes, I remember."

"Well, I was thinking that we really should try to bring this family back together. We've been feuding for almost a decade now, and it's driving me insane. I just want us to act like a normal family!" she said exasperatedly.

Aulenmir frowned. "Not everyone shares your desire to reunite. I have no particular wish to see Altariel again, nor do I wish to see Mermacil. Eru knows I wasn't even entirely willing to accept you here, at first! Give up your wish, Tel. Do not seek out Mermacil in Minas Ithil. Leave this family how it is.

"Can't you see it's hurting you?" Tel asked passionately. "Can't you see that you miss them, and that every second that passes and we are split, you grow colder inside?"

Aulenmir was silent for a minute. "I suppose I can't tell you what to do," he said. "But, let me say one thing. You are trying for the impossible, and will not succeed. I will take care of your children until the first day of spring. After that, they are on their own."

Telimperion's eyes went cold. "So be it. Good night, Aulenmir."

"Good night, Telimperion." They both fell asleep, angry at each other and at their lives.

* * *

><p>As usual, Aulenmir woke early in the morning. The blizzard had finished its tantrum at some point during the night, and he was now free to go outside. He brought Noldolma with him, just in case. He checked the snares and was relieved to see that some food had been caught. Aulenmir also was lucky enough to find some edible plants that had been undisturbed by the snow. He had the Valar's blessing today, it seemed. He opted not to check out the greenhouse, saving those plants for later on.<p>

Aulenmir and Noldolma returned to the house to find that the others had just woken up. He began cooking some of the meat and storing the rest of the meat in the icebox outside. He also prepared some of the vegetables, but saved the rest for later. Meanwhile, Telimperion talked with Peladin and Sirilfa, minding them to be on their best behavior.

Aulenmir brought the food over to the table. "So, are ye leaving us now?" he asked Telimperion.

Telimperion swallowed her food. "Yes," she said. "I must try to get to Minas Tirith as quickly as possible, and I will try to get back as soon as I can. Will you be all right without me?" she asked.

"I should be fine," Aulenmir said. "Hopefully, the Ephûl will be wiling to help me out again, or we may run low on food, but even then are odds are pretty good." Both of the children, being used to excellent and regular meals were more than a little perturbed by this news, but Aulenmir hoped they'd get over it.

After breakfast was finished, Aulenmir and the children waved good-bye to Telimperion, who set back down the mountain path. Aulenmir was able to put his disagreements with her beside while he said good-bye.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Peladin.

"Well, that depends on you two," Aulenmir replied. "If yer up fer it, I could teach you guys some more of living up and the mountains, because that will make the next couple of months much more enjoyable for all of us. Or, you tow could slack around between meals and story time."

Sirilfa opened her mouth and was about to say that slacking off sounded nice when Peladin elbowed her in the ribs and, trying to be a good guest, said "Oh, we'd love to help, Uncle! What would we start with?"

Clutching at her side and glaring at Peladin, Sirilfa muttered, "Yeah, sure, I'd love to help."

Chuckling at their antics, Aulenmir said, "One very important thing to have out in the mountains in the midst of winter is heat. The best of source of that is fire. And, in order to make fire, we need lots an' lots of wood. So, I'm going to teach y'all how to chop would. How's 'at sound?"

Although Peladin and Sirilfa looked doubtful that chopping wood would be fun, they nodded their heads and went with Aulenmir. He spent most of the day showing them how to properly doing it, pausing temporarily to eat lunch and then ending when the sun was almost sunk all the way below the horizon. He told the children to stop what they were doing and to come in for dinner. Dinner was mostly the same as breakfast, and though the children ate it uncomplainingly, it was clear that they were unused to eating meals of this variety.

Once dinner was finished, and everything was cleaned up, Aulenmir launched right into story time. Today, he would be talking about the beginnings of Númenor, and if he had the time he would start the Tale of Aldarion and Erendis.

* * *

><p>"After the War of Wrath, the Valar decided to reward the three houses of Men who had fought alongside the Elves in the First Age. Eönwë taught them knowledge that none of that race had ever been privy to before, and they were gifted with life and power beyond any others of mortal fashion. These Men were called the Dúnedain, or the Númenorians.<p>

"A land was built for the Dúnedain called Númenor. It was shaped in the fashion of a five-pointed star. The northern point, or promontory, was called Forostar. It was rather rocky and barren, save for the moors of the western regions. In this region, great cliffs rose from the sea, and many eagles dwelt there.

"The eastern promontory was called Orostar. Orostar was quite cool, but was protected from the coldest winds by its highlands, and grain was grown in the warmer regions.

"The southeasten promontory was called Hyarrostar. Hyarrostar was the land of many beautiful, colorful trees. Much of the wood used to build the ships starting in Aldarion's time was gotten from here.

"The southwestern promontory was called Hyarnustar. Many fisher folk dwelt in this region, and there were also many vineyards to be found here. The final promontory was called Andustar. Many beautiful trees grew here also, though it had many mountainous regions.

"Finally, the middle region was known as Mittalmar. Here, the grand mountain Meneltarma reached towards the heavens. Here also was the capitol, Armenelos.

"Númenor was first settled in the year 32 of the Second Age. The first king there was Elros, who, as you'll recall, was half-Elven and chose to follow his mortal side, and so was gifted a long life. Elros took the name Tar-Minyatur and ruled Númenor for 410 years, laying down his life in the year 442. After Tar-Minyatur died, his son, Vardamir Nólimon should have taken his place. However, Nólimon chose instead to give the sceptre to his son, Tar-Amandil. Nonetheless, he is still counted among the Kings of Númenor.

"Tar-Amandil ruled for 148 years, before handing the sceptre to his son, Tar-Elendil. Tar-Elendil was a large student of lore, and published many books on the subject. His daughter, Silmarien, should have been Queen after him, but the law had not been yet changed to allow for this possibility, and so Tar-Meneldur became king. Of Silmarien's line would come Amandil and Elendil, two men who would allow for the survival of the Númenorians in Middle-earth. His son was the man upon whom our story centers: Anardil, known better to us as Tar-Aldarion."

Looking around, Aulenmir guessed that there was still plenty of time in the night. "All right," he said, speaking to Peladin and Sirilfa. "If you two want, I can start the story know. However, we will still have to wake up at the same time, and you may be very tired. Or we can stop now and continue tomorrow night.

Aulenmir could see in the children's eyes which option they preferred, as evidenced by their vehement head shaking when he mention his second option. So, he cleared his throat, took a sip of water, and launched into his story.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, in this chapter we finally get to the Tale! As always, reviews will be appreciated! Enjoy!**

_Númenor has few good tales, as I have noticed over my years of experience. Many of the more "interesting" stories concern our involvement in the affairs of others, such as the Elves, rather than our own land. Other stories focus mostly on political intrigue (with many about the subject of succession), something many find quite dull, dry, and difficult to understand. There is, however, one story that is truly "Númenorian", and anyone who is reading this should instinctively know what I'm talking about._

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>Although normally very calm and patient, today Meneldur was pacing up and down the hallway outside Almarian's (his wife) room furiously, and was praying to the Valar that the ordeal was soon ended. Today was quite possibly the most important day of his entire life, for today his child was being born. From inside Almarian's room, he heard the midwives and the doctor conversing. Meneldur did not really have the stomach for such operations. He preferred to view these things from afar, in his lore, rather than up close and personal. This is what made him the explorer rather than the excavator.<p>

Finally, he heard it, that magical noise. From inside of that room came the wailing sound that could only belong to a newborn. He hurried into the room, where he saw the midwives and Almarian, who looked tired but triumphant, crowded around his child.

"It's a boy," said Almarian with pride in her eyes. "This one's going to be strong, I just know it." Meneldur gazed at his child with adoration. He was also cognizant of the fact that one day this boy would take the throne. He hoped that the child would be strong enough for it.

"What will we call him?" he asked.

"His name will be Anardil, after my grandfather, but we will call him Aldarion in his day to day life," she responded. Meneldur smiled, realizing that he should have known that Almarian would have had everything well planned out.

Everything had been prepared in Armenelos for Aladarion's birth, of course. A great festival had been planned in his honor, and the people of Númenor, even those not in Armenelos, would be happy to have a chance to celebrate for the week. A national holiday was declared, and soon the festival began. Meneldur and Almarian were not in attendance, since they had to care for Aldarion.

Meneldur also still had to work as a Prince. He had many minor jobs and other bothers that he had to deal with, even on special occasions such as this. And, of course, he wanted to spend more time gathering and organizing his lore.

Meanwhile, the rest of Númenor celebrated for a full week, for this was before their many troubles began and the people could afford to stop working for a week, or possibly even longer, without reaping the consequences. It took some time for the people to settle down into a normal routine, but they managed nonetheless.

Later, Meneldur and Almarian had two more children, both daughters. Their names were Ailiniel and Almiel, and they enter not into this tale, although they have their own importance elsewhere. The festivities surrounding these two were not as strong, now that an heir had already been born, but the people of Númenor were still willing to welcome them.

Meanwhile, Aldarion grew into a fine young man. He took after his maternal grandfather, Vëantur, in that he loved ships and everything concerning them, all things nautical. Vëantur had been Captain of the King's Ships when Tar-Elendil was King, showing his love of ships.

Unlike his father, Aldarion spent little time in the North, especially not Forostar, where Tar-Meneldur had spent most of his life before becoming King. He preferred rather to spend his time in Rómenna, the greatest port in the entire world save Alqualondë. They argued often about this.

"I don't see why you don't want to spend a summer with your paternal grandfather, Tar-Elendil, up in Sorontil at my tower. I loved being there, he loves it there, and I know for a fact that you will love it there too. So why will you not go?" Meneldur asked angrily.

"Father, please try to see this from my perspective," beseeched Aldarion. "I am 17, what love have I for old lore and dusty scrolls? I would rather spend time Vëantur with his ships in Rómenna, where I can do something that I enjoy!"

Meneldur glared sternly at him. "There are many things that Elendil could teach you that would be vital to you when you are King. When you are King, you will not need to know how to build a boat, or how to rig a sail, or whatever it is that sailors do."

Almarian interjected. "Please, you two let us not bicker and squabble like a pair of old dwarves. Compromise is key here. Why not spend part of the summer with one grandfather, then part with the other?"

Both Meneldur and Aldarion turned to face her and said "No" at the same time, the glared at each other. In the end, Meneldur decided to be grateful that Aldarion was accomplishing something with his life, even if that something was not to his satisfaction, and allowed him to stay with Vëantur.

It came to pass when he was 25 years of age that Vëantur, seeing that he wise and mature, offered for Aldarion to come with him on a voyage to Mithlond and the Ered Luin. Once more, Meneldur was loath to allow Aldarion to choose such a path. He weighed the pros and cons of the situation, balancing things between the advantages of letting Aldarion expand his horizons and the potential dangers that lay on the route. In the end, he told Aldarion to follow his heart, but to remember that one day he would have to become King of Númenor.

On his journey, Aldarion had great fun. He made friends with powerful people, such as Círdan the Shipwright (who taught him many things about boats) and Gil-galad, the mighty son of Fingon. He also made contact with some of the Men of that region, learning from them certain talents that no Númenorian knew at that time. He also taught them a few things, and he became friends with the leader's son, Tu-Ankh. The voyage took him a grand total of two years, during which Meneldur was constantly apprehensive. He did not act like his normal, calm self but took to snapping at others and changing moods in a blink.

All were happy to see Aldarion return to Númenor. Meneldur asked of him what he would remember from this journey, but Aldarion gave a noncommittal response, for the love of the sea had overtaken him, and all else paled in comparison to that passion.

Being far too old at this point, Vëantur never again voyaged from Númenor. However, he gave his ship, Númerrámar to Aldarion so that he could go on more journeys. Soon enough, Aldarion asked for leave to go on another voyage to Lindon, for three years, and soon after that, he went on another voyage, this one longer and wider in scope. The reason for this was that Aldarion was no longer satisfied with merely going to Lindon. He wanted to go even further, on greater and greater journeys where no Númenorian had ever gone before. He went past the Gwathló, down the coast to the Bay of Belfalas, which he explored in detail.

In vain, Meneldur opposed these voyages, fearing for his son's life. He knew that many an accident could befall a man while on the open seas, even with the favor of the Valar. However, Vëantur convinced him that Aldarion would be fine. Also, Aldarion was a grown man, and his father could no longer control him.

When he was thirty-nine years of age, Aldarion returned home. The next year, Tar-Elendil permanently stepped down and handed the sceptre to Meneldur, henceforth known as Tar-Meneldur. Because of this Aldarion stayed at home to help his father and to fill some of his princely duties. He put his knowledge that he had gained from Círdan to good work, and came up with many innovative designs for ships that were used for the rest of Númenorian history, even in the great armament of Ar-Pharazôn.

However, soon Aldarion was no longer content with building boats, he sought the adventures that he had once had before his father was kinged. He founded the Guild of Ventures, a group of the best and brightest mariners on Númenor, and many from all over the land sought to join. They hailed Aldarion as the Great Captain, and sought his favor and respect. And to stay closer to the water, he had a ship built that he would live on, and he sailed from port to port occasionally, but was more often anchored by the island, Tol Uinen, named after the great Maia who had placed the island there.

Displeased by his son's actions, Tar-Meneldur wrote to him from Armenelos.

"Son, I beseech thee to return home at once. While you play at being Captain and endanger others with your passion, you neglect important duties that you are required to do as Prince of this land. You sow seeds of restlessness and passion in places that would otherwise be quiet and content, and you cause trouble for your mother and me. Please, desist in these activities and come to Armenelos. Ever since Tar-Elendil passed away in 751, this household has felt empty. Your subjects miss you. I ask one more time, please come back."

However, Aldarion refused to turn home and spoke little to Meneldur of his plans and goals. He worked often by himself, and kept his father in the dark. However, Almarian supported her son, and so Meneldur was unable to pressure his son further. Aldarion, without any authority opposing him, became harder and harder to oppose or restrain. He grew headstrong and arrogant, and Tar-Meneldur couldn't stop this transformation from occurring.

Now, Aldarion sought to improve the Númenorian navy even further, making ships that were greater than ever before, some say surpassing even the efforts of the Teleri. And Aldarion was often away from home.

Tar-Meneldur began to indirectly oppose his son and his followers. He prevented trees from being felled for lumber for boats. This forced Aldarion to look to the forests of Middle-earth to replace the Númenorian wood. He established a haven for ships there, called Vinyalondë. The ents, to this day, blame Aldarion as the main reason for the loss of their forests.

Finally, after many decades of opposition between father and son, Tar-Meneldur tried to make amends with Aldarion once more. He asked Aldarion to remain in Númenor, for he wished to officially appoint him as successor to the throne. And for a time, they were reconciled.

* * *

><p>Aulenmir opted to pause at this point. He had decided, when he saw that it was getting late, to cut off before Erendis was introduced, as he wanted plenty of time for that segment. Most of what he had told tonight could be counted as more back story, for so much of it was required to tell even the shortest pieces of lore.<p>

'All right, time to get some sleep," he called to the children.

"Aww, come on, Uncle!" they cried. "Just for a few more minutes!"

But Aulenmir was adamant about bedtime, and they finally folded and went to their cots, impatient for the next evening. As he drifted to sleep, Aulenmir wondered how Telimperion was faring.

* * *

><p>As it was, Telimperion was wondering the same thing about him. Currently she was taking a small break while she tried to regain her energy. Many of the paths through the mountains had been blocked by the blizzard; so going through them was taking quite some time. She was also damp, sore, and all around irritated. Still, she managed to take some time to think of Aulenmir and the children. She hoped they were getting enough to eat.<p>

With a groan, she got back up again and attempted to continue slogging on, though night was falling fast. She had just crested the peak of a small hill when she heard noises coming from behind her. Turning around, she saw several large black shapes moving toward her swiftly, though in the darkness their forms were obnubilated and she could not tell who they were. One thing she was sure of, though: they were unlikely to have good intentions.

Telimperion tried to break into a run, but it was difficult to run on this difficult terrain, where each step took far more effort than it would have on the flat plains she was used to running on. The mob behind her was catching up, and she was beginning to feel worried. She turned around and saw that they were almost upon her, and then she tripped and fell, tumbling down a few yards

With the figures much closer, she could make them out much better. Looking upon their faces, she was shocked to see that they looked almost like the pictures of orcs that she had seen in some of Aulenmir's books (she was too young to have seen one in real life), but these orcs looked a little different. More importantly, though, what were orcs doing in the White Mountains?

The tallest of the bunch drew his weapon, a nasty-looking scimitar that, more than anything, indicated his intent to harm. He spoke to her "What are you doing on Keraq land, _tark_? Do you trespass with intent to do harm?"

"Your land?" Telimperion said, quite puzzled. "This is Gondor, not whatever it is that you said."

"You stole our land, it is only fair that we took some back," one of the orcs responded. The leader glared at him cutting him off.

"Clearly, you are no friend of ours. You have come into our land and have claimed it as yours, foolishly. That warrants death, by our code."

Telimperion was shocked. "Death!"

The orc only responded by grinning viciously at her. He brought back his dagger, preparing to swing, when a voice rang out through the night. "*Âdhnto âdhûn, hornu ulkûrzu! *"

Telimperion craned her neck up to see a tall man standing behind her with a very impressive sword in his hands. Upon seeing him, the orcs began howling in frustration, but began backing off. Telimperion picked herself up and followed after the man. She was in awe of the control he had over the orcs.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"They call me Immortal," he said simply.

* * *

><p>Mermacil was deep in thought as he gazed from his window at the Ephel Duath. He had been living in Minas Ithil for several years now, and had managed to become an important aid to Lord Faramir. His job was usually to stay within the tower inside the city, but he was occasionally handed a scouting job. He was jolted out of his trance by a loud knock at his door. When he opened it, he found a servant staring eagerly back at him. "This way, sir. Lord Faramir wishes to see you."<p>

Mermacil nodded. "Lead on," he said in his deep voice, gesturing for the servant to begin moving. He found Faramir sitting at his desk, eyeing a map intently.

"Ah, just the man I was waiting for!" he said. Mermacil walked over to the desk and waited for Faramir to tell him whatever he called him for. "I am currently facing an interesting problem. Our intelligence had lead us to believe that the orcs had cleared out of Mordor, with some going to the South with the Haradrim, and others heading east to live by the mountains." Mermacil nodded, this was all information he was aware of.

"However," Faramir continued, "Scouts are bringing back reports of Orcish activity in Gorgoroth. I want you to lead an expedition to there and report your findings back to me. King Elessar entrusted me with this position, and I wish to prove to him that I am capable of governing Mordor."

Mermacil thought over things briefly. "I would love to lead such an expedition," he said. "When would I leave?" he inquired.

"As soon as can assemble a team, which will probably be in a couple days at the latest."

"All right, I will begin preparing." Mermacil said.

"Thank you," Faramir responded. "This mission means a lot to me, but I trust you will handle it well. You are dismissed."

Mermacil walked back to his quarters, without the servant since they had left to do some other errand. He thought over the problem while he began his preparations. "Why would there be orcs in Mordor?" he mused aloud. "And, perhaps more importantly, why are they only now being so active?"

***Translation: "Leave her alone, foul beasts!" I am not entirely sure that this is accurate, so if you know how to translate the Black Speech, feel free to leave a comment with the correct translation.**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: So sorry for the long delay! It seems that I have been quite lazy recently. Here is a somewhat longer chapter.**

_It seems that as I grow older, the sands time slip through my fingers all the faster. Why, only yesterday, it seems, I was a young man, just learning how to write in the graceful language of the Noldor, and yet here I am today, older than almost any others in the palace, decrepit, and tired. I find it harder to keep track of time on a more day-to-day basis as well. I have found myself frequently forgetting the day or month (I apologize if some of the dates in my Journal are off), but thankfully not year. I fear I have neglected several important projects because of this lack of sense of time. Admittedly, many of these projects are only important to me; I often fail to see my importance to Ar-Pharazôn, although he apparently sees something. Still, I imagine he would be unlikely to be as excited by my collection of barbaric manuscripts as I am._

_It is only fitting that I, struggling to perceive the past, would turn my thoughts to the future. At this point, it is quite unlikely that I will have descendants, so my line is unlikely to live on. I have not spoken with my relatives in many years, so I know not how their lineages fair, but I imagine they are doing hardly better than me. I think instead of the future of my people as a whole. Where will the next few decades take us? Centuries? Ages?_

_Looking at things politically, things seem bleak. Ar-Pharazôn, after the tragedy that befell Belgazar, seems reluctant to bear a child, despite the well-intentioned urgings of others, and I (the current successor) am almost certain to pass beyond before he does. Only HE will be named as Ar-Pharazôn's successor, and HE doesn't die. A dark tide shall cover Númenor, and we shall all be powerless to stop it._

_If I pretend for a moment, however, that a slightly happier outcome occurs, then predicting things becomes more difficult. When Ar-Pharazôn dies, who takes control? Does someone take control? The best outcome is that Amandil comes out on top in the ensuing chaos, and allows us to walk in the light. The social aspect of change is another matter entirely. What will be popular several ages from now? What will people be like?_

_As I ponder more and more, I grow more and more worried. Perhaps a walk will help clear my mind. The trees are so lovely at this time of year, and the weather never seems to grow to cold. The city truly is lovely right now, even after all the horrible things that have happened in this world._

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>The next day, Aulenmir let the children sleep in once more as he completed the morning chores. They ate breakfast in silence, still tired from their late night. After they had finished eating, Aulenmir spoke to the children. "Alright, I may have to leave you two alone tomorrow. When I first moved up here, a group of people who've been livin' up in these mountains since before the Númenorians began building ships decided to take pity on me an' help me out. I hopin', since I have to extra mouths to feed in the form of you two, they'll help me, but I'll probably have to spend the whole day negotiating. So, today we'll prepare for my absence, and tonight I'll continue the story."<p>

Peladin looked distraught at the idea of being alone for the day. "Can't we come with you, Uncle?" he queried.

"'Fraid not." Aulenmir said. "I know the Ephûl fairly well, and they know me, but they don't know the two of you, and they don't take well to strangers. Don't worry though; you'll have Noldolma to watch over ya. She's probably a better guardian than I am, to be honest."

"She's not a storyman like you, Unca!" said Sirilfa, who was all too excited to hear more of the story.

"You've got me there," Aulenmir grinned.

They headed outside and Aulenmir spent most of the morning showing them around the area outside of his cabin. He showed them the path leading out the Ered Nimrais, the forest where most of the game was to be found, and the flat area where he had built his cabin. He also showed them the path that leads further up the mountains to the Ephûl.

The rest of the day was spent showing Peladin and Sirilfa how to collect food from the snares, what kind of plants and mushrooms were edible, and, in an emergency, the path to the closest neighbor if they desperately needed food. Aulenmir made a mental note to himself to head to the nearest trading lodge to restock, as he was beginning to run low in supplies. Luckily, it seemed as though the next few days would be snow-free, although it could rain. Finally, all was ready for the next day, and Aulenmir was free to pick up where he had left off.

Peladin and Sirilfa where beginning to warm to the idea of having Aulenmir as their guardian, as evidenced by how they wanted him to stay with them (although that was probably in no small manner caused by their fear of being left alone). They were learning many new things, had plenty of things keeping them active, and wonderful stories to entertain them. So, they were easily quieted down when Aulenmir wanted to start.

* * *

><p>To celebrate the reunion between father and son and the official declaration of who was to succeed Tar-Meneldur, a grand feast was to be had in Armenelos. All the nobles from all across Númenor where invited, and no expense was spared to ensure that this feast would be the golden standard to which all future feasts where held to. All manners of entertainment, from musical pieces, to jesters and fools, to bards reciting sonnets, and even full-scale plays and operas were set to perform. Many exotic varieties of food and drink were to be served, hailing from the eastern half of Endor, a mysterious land even today.<p>

And one visitor was especially important, and her name was Erendis. Her father was named Beregar, and he was a noble of Andustar, and was descended from the house of Bëor. The people of this house were few in Númenor, owing to the fact that few had survived the First Age and the great many injustices that had been dealt to them by Morgoth, black foe of the world. This made the people of Bëor exotic beauties already, and Erendis was the most beautiful of all. So great was her beauty that the Queen herself remarked upon it, and she was a great beauty herself.

And although this beauty conveyed many (often unwanted) suitors upon Erendis, at the feast she had eyes only for one man: Aldarion. And so, to place herself as a potential suitor of Aldarion, Erendis entered the Queen's household, and the King's, but this did little to affect Aldarion, for he was busy ensuring that the lumber economy was in order and that there would be enough for ships to be made as long as Númenor survived.

However, many mariners began voicing their discontent, proclaiming their wish for Aldarion to return as their commander. "Things just aren't the same since he left," stated Helmsman Smyth. "We all miss him, and do not care for the commanders of poor quality that they have thrust upon us in his absence," said an unnamed crewman. Aldarion spoke to his father once more about his desire to leave.

"Please, father, I have stayed here for over six years! I miss the sea; I miss the wind pushing out the sails, the creak of the oars, the feel of the spray! I miss my crews too, much as they miss me! Please, let me go back!"

"This goes against my best instinct, Aldarion. Why, oh why does it not content you to stay here, to seek a wife, to raise a family?" Tar-Meneldur asked of him.

"I have a wife, and a family too," Aldarion replied bitterly, "but you seek to keep us apart!"

The King was silent for a long time, until he finally spoke. "It pains me to see you so distressed, so I shall grant you my leave. Know, however, that when you return I expect that you will immediately concern yourself with searching for a suitable wife."

Almarian the Queen was even less happy to see Aldarion leave, and asked him if there was nothing in Armenelos that he could love as he loved the sea. Aldarion replied that there was such a thing, but he still loved the sea greatly. Erendis heard of this, and believed that Aldarion referred to her. However, this did not give her great hope, as she still believed that Aldarion was above her, being a mighty Prince to her lowly status as the daughter of a lesser noble.

Aldarion was seven years in returning, but return he did, bearing gold and silver and tales of his great deeds. But his father cared not for these gifts or tidings, preferring that Aldarion stay in Armenelos and learn how to lead people, and even perhaps find a suitable wife. However, Aldarion refused, saying that it is better for a mariner to remain unwed. Aldarion and his father found it difficult to interact together after arguing so much with each other.

Aldarion began construction on a great ship, finer than any other vessel before made, and (some argue) finer than any after as well. The ship was called _Palarran_, which means Far-Wanderer in our tongue. And yet, even while building this ship, he met often with Erendis, which was caused by the contrivances of Almarian. Meneldur was somewhat displeased to learn of this, believing that Aldarion should be cured of his sea longing before falling in love with any woman, but Almarian believed that love was the answer.

Aldarion, at this point, did not speak much with Erendis about the sea, for it seemed as though she shared not his passion for all things naval, and he did not want to make her jealous for it. Instead they talked about the things they had in common, as couples often do. They spoke about their love of Númenor, for at this early point in Númenor's history they had not yet begun to fall, and everything was nigh perfect. Aldarion and Erendis loved Númenor, as did everyone who visited it. The power that the sea held over Aldarion must have been great indeed to cause him to leave Númenor behind. Erendis and Aldarion also shared a love of music and of the theatre.

Aldarion decided that once construction of Palarran was finished he would once more leave Númenor on another voyage. Meneldur became quite displeased with his son after hearing this, and it was only by the efforts of Almarian that Meneldur did not utterly forbid Aldarion from taking this voyage. However, while not forbidding him outright, he did make his journey a difficult one to begin. In Númenor, there is a tradition that a woman, often a family member of the captain of the vessel, must take a Green Bough of Return, cut from the _oiolairë_ (which means "Ever-summer" in the tongue of the Noldor), and place it upon the prow of the ship. This tradition began with Tar-Minyatur, who had one such bough placed on the ship that he sailed to Númenor in by his wife. However, Tar-Meneldur decreed that neither the Queen or Aldarion's sisters (Ailiniel and Almiel) were to place the bough on the ship. Aldarion, being proud and young, was willing to forsake tradition in order to leave; such was the urgency he felt to return to the sea. However, Erendis came up with a clever idea. She decided that she could be the one to place the bough, since she was close to Aldarion but had not been forbidden by Tar-Meneldur.

And Aldarion and his crew were both immensely relieved that she would come so close to crossing the King just to help them on their way. For the first time, Aldarion truly looked at Erendis with the beginning of love. And Erendis told him that others besides his family missed him.

Aldarion returned soon, or so it seemed, and was more than eager to present Erendis with a magnificent gift: a large diamond. Meneldur and his son were now all but enemies, and Meneldur disapproved of giving such a gift to Erendis in that fashion.

"If you desire her hand, Aldarion, then for Eru's sake take it!" he barked.

"I gave this gift as a thanks, for being kind when others who I thought were close to me were not," Aldarion replied smoothly.

"Please, Aldarion, consider the importance of your lineage. You must marry!"

But Aldarion refused to think of such things, for he was most uneager to do the things that were urged of him, perhaps just to be contrary. And despite the King this time forbidding him Aldarion once more set sail, in a fleet of seven fine ships. And once more, Erendis came close to disobeying the King by once more securing a bough for Aldarion.

* * *

><p>Aulenmir paused, for he could see that Peladin and Sirilfa were growing tired. "All right, then," he said, "It's time for bed!"<p>

* * *

><p>Immortal began walking away, in the same direction that Telimperion had been heading before the orcs had appeared. She increased her pace so as to match his and began asking all the questions she could. "What were those things? Why are they here? Who are you? Why did you-" She broke off when Immortal held a hand up. "Wait for us to get back to my dwelling. We can talk freely there." Telimperion responded with only a nod, unwilling to begin talking again.<p>

It was a bit of a walk back to Immortal's "dwelling" which was a cave, well sheltered by the mountains. It was relatively spacious, certainly big enough for two people, although it was rather sparsely furnished. Immortal set about making a fire, and once he had successfully done so he began boiling some water. Before Telimperion could ask he said, "I'm making tea. Would you like some?" Telimperion nodded again.

After they had made tea, Immortal spoke again. "I will start with the simplest of your questions. Those orcs that you ran into are called the Keraq'ar. They did not always live in the Ered Nimrais, at least most of them didn't. There has always been a sizable population of orcs in the lands to the south and to the east, but now many of those orcs are on the move. What their purpose is I cannot say. They may be moving at the behest of some new leader, or they may be fleeing some unknown danger. Most of these orcs wish no harm upon us, and even seek to coexist with humans, although I sense they wish that they could do without us. However, the Keraq'ar do not wish for this. They seek to be utterly independent, and do not like humans for all the pain you caused them in the war."

"So, when the orc said that I was trespassing on Keraq land, he was referring to the land that he and his people were now living on"

"Precisely. Now, Elessar has not yet received news of this, or else I feel that he would have done something about it by now. He can hardly have orcs attacking his people in his own kingdom, after all."

Telimperion had an idea. "It just so happens that I'm heading to Minas Tirith to seek an audience with the King. Perhaps I could inform him."

"That's quite fortuitous," Immortal replied. "I think that would be a very good idea."

Telimperion grinned. She liked being able to help out and pose suggestions. However, she wasn't quite done grilling Immortal. "You still haven't answered my other questions. Who are you and why did you help me? Also, what language were you speaking and where did you learn to speak it?"

Immortal chuckled. "The latter two questions are easy. That was the Black Speech, the language invented by Sauron to give the orcs a universal tongue. The Keraq'ar speak a relatively pure form of it. I learned it from a man who had quite a bit of contact with the orcs and had learned it from them."

"And my other two questions?" Telimperion asked, noticing he was avoiding them.

Immortal looked a bit uncomfortable. "It's a long story…" he began.

"I love long stories, as a matter of fact," she replied smoothly.

"I think it's a bit longer than you like," he said. Telimperion's only response was to arch an eyebrow at him. Years of training against her siblings in the art of eyebrow gesticulating had made her quite good at it. Her best eyebrows would have the Saruman of Many-colors thinking twice about trying to win her over with words.

Immortal at last relented. "How about this," he said. "We'll get some sleep tonight and I will give you the full story tomorrow." He began setting up another pallet for Telimperion.

Realizing that she probably wouldn't get a better offer, she went with it. "It's a deal," she said firmly, holding out her hand. They shook on it and then went to sleep.

* * *

><p>Mermacil began to assemble the people for his team as soon as possible. He was careful to pick people based off of their qualities that were important in this decision, not whether or not he liked them or if they liked him. After a day of planning, he finally decided on a team. For the position of Protector, he chose Hannish, a man who knew fighting quite well as well as the importance of taking orders. For a Scribe, he chose Elarë, a woman who wrote astonishingly concisely considering the speed at which she wrote. For a Diplomat he chose Kith'tar, a man who had lived amongst the orcs during the War. Finally, as they're Ranger he chose Lt. Samnon, a man who had been a ranger during the war and had decided to allow the men in Minas Ithil to put his skills to use.<p>

The next morning, the team assembled. These people all knew each other fairly well, and would hopefully be able to work well as a team. They set off on foot, for they were traveling through Cirith Ungol, and horses could not make it up the stairs. Hannish lead the way to protect them from the front, with Lt. Samnon protecting them in the back.

The way up was quite difficult. The wind was chilly and biting, and it screamed down the mountains into their faces. Even though their bodies were quite covered by thick clothing to keep them warm, the wind pushed its way in and they were are chilled to the bone. In addition, while Mt. Doom was no longer quite as active, several other lesser volcanoes nearby were still active, and they vomited ash and farted sulfur. Although they had masks of cloth to protect their noses, eyes, and mouths, the foul stench still made its way in, and they were perpetually afraid to glance up, lest some vile speck enter their eyes.

Although, through the steady work of Mermacil and those like him, the stairs had been made somewhat easier to traverse, it was still hard work. Hannish, Kith'tar, and Lt. Samnon were more used to hard work, but even they were breathing heavily and struggling to find the strength to move on. Mermacil, who didn't do nearly as much field work, was close to collapsing. The only thing that kept them moving was that somehow, despite her non-existent field experience, Elarë kept moving at a steady pace, inspiring them to do the same. They walked without talking; the only noise was the unceasing wind.

Finally, they reached the top of the Winding Stair. "I'll take first watch," said Hannish, the first words any of them had spoken in ours. The watch order was decided and the party set up camp outside of Torech Ungol. Exhausted, they quickly ate their food and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Far to the east of the Ered Nimrais, where Aulenmir and Telimperion are, far beyond the Ephel Duath, where Mermacil now camps, there is a beautiful port city. This port city has no name in the west, and is only spoken of in legends and songs. They say that this city was old and proud when Númenor had yet to rise from the waves. In the tongue of the Kirranmar, the people who now live in the city, it is Hyarragash, which means, quite simply, "waterfront".<p>

The city is truly massive in every way conceivable. It is to Minas Tirith as Minas Tirith is to Bree. Often, Hyarragash was referred to as the Heart of the East, for it was truly the grandest part of that region. In Hyarragash, there was one truly magnificent building that put all the others to shame, and this building was the temple of the Sun god, Azao. And it was in this temple that Parthekos, elder brother of Aulenmir, made his home.

Many years before, after he had told his siblings that he would head east, Parthekos had drifted from town to town along the coast, not knowing what to do with him. One day, he was in a small village that happened to have a minor harbor when he noticed a very exotic looking boat. This boat hailed from Hyarragash and promised a free voyage to anyone who would join the priesthood of Azao. Having nothing better to do, Parthekos agreed to this price, and departed with the boat at the end of the week.

He vastly preferred life in the temple to his previous life in Gondor. He was well suited to this kind of life, and rose quickly in the temple, going from being a simple Issalar to a powerful Ossaon. The Yasugi trusted him, often confiding in him. Now, he had a mission for him.

Parthekos finished his morning disciplines, packed his few belongings, and set out for the Orocarni. Rumors were spreading that a great many orc tribes had settled there, and the Yasugi wished for him to bring to them the religion of the great god Azao.


	6. Chapter 5

_Despite the fact that they are the main foot soldiers of our greatest enemy, we know surprisingly little about the orcs. Most of our knowledge of them comes from old, dry accounts written by soldiers from when we last got involved with the elves. The rest of our information comes from accounts by our marines from what they have heard from the people who live near our harbors. As you can imagine, this information doesn't quite paint a vivid image._

_Talks have been conducted about going to Endor and attempting to learn more of the orcs. The justification for these explorations are usually along the lines of "getting to know your enemy", although I believe that some are genuinely curious. However, every time the topic comes up, the proposal is strongly put down, mostly because the majority of the council members believe that we should take a look at the other humans living in Endor first. Whenever it is asked why we don't do just that, various excuses are made up, of course. I'm beginning to wonder why I should bother to go to all these meetings!_

_A few generations ago, we probably could have asked the Elves about the orcs and other things happening in Endor, but our relationship with them was rather strained by Ar-Gimilzôr and Tar-Palantir has not been able to restore them to what they were in our ancestor's times. The majority of our councilors probably wouldn't even trust them if they were willing to give us some information._

_On the bright side, the Council has begun to go over the possibility of opening up better relations with some of the great cities of Eastern Endor, including Basings, Lax'yze, and Hyarragash, all of which are mighty cities and will be strong allies in the years to come. Basings is the smallest of these cities, and is the closest to us. It lies to the far south of Mordor, even further south than Algrader, yet still borders Belegaer. The journey there takes around an equal amount of time as the journey to Umbar, if not less. The main export of Basings is gold, which is quite valued around here. They also trade in foods grown only there, such as coffee and spices, rare commodities in Númenor. The religion of Basings revolves around a belief in animal spirits and nature-worship._

_The next closest, and second largest city is Lax'yze. Lax'yze is much farther away than Basings, requiring our ships to sail all the way around the Cape of South Endor in order to reach out. We know less about Lax'yze than we do about Basings, but we do know that tea and silk are some of their greatest exports, and that they have a variety of inventions that many of our chief engineers would love to get their hands on. Their main religion revolves around the worship of ancestor spirits, although some other minor religions thrive there as well._

_Finally, the city furthest from us, and the largest is the city of Hyarragash. We know the least about Hyarragash; we don't even know what their main export is. All we have been able to figure out is that their (only) religion revolves around the worship of a massive pantheon of gods, the most powerful of which is Azao, the Sun god._

_ I sense that some people attempting to open up trade will be attempting to get the people who worship other religions to ours._

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>When Peladin and Sirilfa were awoken the next morning by Noldolma's loud barking, Aulenmir had already left to visit the Ephûl. Noldolma ran over to their beds, nudging them with her cold wet nose until the two were out of bed and dressing, then trotted over to the door. She had woken up with Aulenmir, and had already been fed by him.<p>

"I think he left already," Peladin said to Sirilfa. Sirilfa yawned and looked around the house.

"Hey, look over there!" she said, pointing close to where Noldolma was sitting. Peladin looked to where she was pointing. On the ground was a piece of paper with some writing on it. Sirilfa couldn't read very well, but Telimperion had made sure that Peladin could.

"It's a note for us," he said. He began to read it aloud.

Peladin and Sirilfa,

_I decided to leave almost as soon as I woke up so that I might be able to make it back before sundown and even possibly continue a bit of the story with you two (as I'm sure you'll be overjoyed to hear). There are a few things the two of you must do while I am gone. First, check the snares for food. Don't worry about resetting them; I can handle that tomorrow. Second, look for some of the remaining vegetables in the forest that I showed you yesterday; they will make a good lunch! Finally, use our remaining wheat supplies to make some bread._

_Aulenmir_

"Well, I guess we'd better get started, then," said Peladin dutifully. Sirilfa yawned again.

"Can't we eat first?" she moaned.

"Oh, fine"

"Yaay!"

After eating a quick breakfast they set off to do as Aulenmir had instructed. Working together, the two siblings made a pretty good team. Naturally, being just little children they didn't work quite as efficiently as Aulenmir would have, and being siblings they probably spent as much time bugging each other as they did working, but they still got things done. On their farm, they had had to do chores in a similar fashion, so they were used to working together. For siblings, you could say they got along quite well. Peladin took responsibility for collecting food from the snares and cooking it, while Sirilfa gather vegetables and prepared those. They ate some of the vegetables for a quick lunch and then set to work on the bread. They were soon finished and were only waiting for Aulenmir to return.

"Peladin, why are we here?" Sirilfa asked.

"Well, because Mother needed someone to look after us while she is gone," Peladin replied.

"Why is she gone?"

Peladin frowned. "Don't you remember? We had a discussion about this back in the Vale."

"No, I don't remember," she said crossly.

"Well, it's like what Mother told Aulenmir. We got lots of bad weather this year. The wrong amount of rain and not enough heat. Not enough crops grew for us, or for anyone in the Vale, or in the rest of Lebennin."

"But that's not the only reason."

"No," Peladin said quietly. "It's not." He was silent for a few moments before continuing. "First, this poor weather has been happening for four years now, and we are all beginning to fall into debt. Mother says that other regions of Gondor are being affected too. Second, there's the Kolfinna"

Sirilfa's eyes widened. "The Kolfinna?" she repeated.

"Yup. Recently, several groups of raiders have been plundering farms near the shore. Some of the raids have even come up the River Gilrain. That's the main reason why Mother went to Minas Tirith. She's asking for King Elessar to send economic and military aid."

"Why didn't Mother tell this to Aulenmir?"

"I wish I knew"

After Sirilfa's curiosity had been sated, the siblings fell silent, anxiously awaiting Aulenmir's return.

* * *

><p>Aulenmir awoke when it was still dark. It was a walk of at least two hours to where the nearest encampment of the Ephûl was, and Aulenmir wanted to be able to walk home while the sun was still up. He quickly accomplished a couple simple tasks to make things easier for Peladin and Sirilfa, including leaving them a note. He didn't want them to starve or get bored, so he made sure they had plenty to do. He did everything in silence so as not to wake them. He left Noldolma with them so that she could help, if necessary.<p>

He strode out of the house and walked into the woods, hoping he could remember the way. The woods were a little eerie at this time. In the darkness of the morning, it was difficult to make things out, and a mild fog hung over the land, making it quite difficult to see anything at all. Aulenmir cursed, wishing that he had brought a lantern. He had at least remembered to dress warmly, for although he was sweltering down here, up where the Ephûl lived it was much colder. As he kept walking, the ground began to take on a slight incline, which increased every half-mile or so. Finally, the woods ended, and Aulenmir emerged right in front of a path that would take him higher and deeper into the mountains. By this time, the Sun was peaking up from behind the horizon, so he would at least have plenty of light for his trip.

Aulenmir glanced behind him and was treated to a breathtaking sight. At this altitude, he could see very far. Directly in front of him, of course, was the rocky slope of the mountain. Ahead of that was the large woods that was on a relatively flatter section of the mountain. Aulenmir thought he could make out his house just a little bit beyond the woods, but he wasn't sure. Further down was more mountain, although here it was at a much shallower incline. Other houses lay on this section of mountain, with an entire town close to the bottom. At the end of the mountain the plains and farmland began. Stretching on for miles and miles were vast swathes of fields of various crops. The fields were broken up only by the Rivers Gilrain and Serni, and by other parts of the Ered Nimrais. Finally, at the end of the farms was the Bay of Belfalas, which glistened underneath the morning sun.

Aulenmir continued his way up the mountain, making excellent pace. It was about an hour before noon when he finally reached the top of the path. Where the path ended, there was a large flat space, and just beyond that flat space, further up on the mountain, was a cluster of tents: the Ephûl.

The Ephûl were an old people. They had been living in this mountains far longer than the Gondorians had been; some say they had been here since shortly after Bëor first walked into Beleriand. They never stayed in the same place for very long, but they usually returned to previous encampments. Aulenmir was lucky to have found them in the same place. The Ephûl were masters at surviving up in the Ered Nimrais, after all they had been doing it for close to 6000 years. However, they also didn't like others very well, especially not Gondorians, having been wronged by them in the past, several times.

When Aulenmir had first moved out to the mountains, he had been visited by one tribe asking him what he was doing on their land. After a small bit of conflict between them, Aulenmir had managed to impress their chieftain, Jamai. Now, Aulenmir was taking a risk in asking him for help.

As he approached the encampment, 3 Ephûl warriors came out to meet him, armed with spears. "What is your business here?" one of them asked.

"I wish to speak with your chieftain," Aulenmir responded.

"He does not see others," the man replied. "Leave here now while you still can."

"Hold on," said another one of the warriors. "I recognize this man. He is Aulenmir. We allowed him to build on our land and helped him survive his first year. We marked him as our friend."

The first man pursed his lips and came to decision. "All right, we will take you to see Chieftain Jamai. But, if he doesn't recognize you like Dakil does, then we throw you out. Understand?"

Aulenmir nodded. He was probably lucky that things were going this well. To be honest, he didn't even know how well Jamai remembered him. They lead him over to a tent that looked identical to all the others. Ephûl chieftains did not call attention to their rank, and being a chieftain was not like being a king. Being a chieftain was not a hereditary position; anyone who could defeat the chieftain in single combat would become the new chieftain. Usually, if a chieftain led well, there would be no challengers, or at least no challengers who lasted very long after defeating the incumbent. However, because of this tradition there were few chieftains who lasted into old age, save for the mage-chieftains.

"Jamai, there is someone here to see you," announced the man.

"Give me a moment, Luzvim," said a voice from within the tent. After a few seconds, Jamai emerged from the tent. At first glance, Aulenmir could see that the years hadn't treated him well. Jamai was old now, and had definitely started to show it in his body. However, his smile when he saw Aulenmir was as bright as ever.

"Aulenmir, my old friend, what brings you here?" he inquired.

Aulenmir breathed a small sigh of relief, though he noticed that Luzvim was still watching him intently. He smiled back at Jamai. "I have a favor I need to ask of you."

"A favor? Ask away," the chieftain responded.

"My sister asked me to take care o' her two kids, and I don't think I'll be able to support all three of us through the winter, not without badly damagin' the game 'round here. I came to ask for yer help."

Jamai thought about Aulenmir's request for a moment, then replied: "I would be happy to offer our help. But, you know there is a price."

"A favor."

"Of course, what else?"

"What favor did you have in mind?" Aulenmir asked.

Jamai's smile broadened. "I don't think I'll use it just yet. If I ever need you, I'll send a messenger. Luzvim, Dakil, Jejo, see that Aulenmir gets some food, then show him out. Good luck!"

The three men offered him some of the tribe's midday meal and then saw him on his way. The way down was almost more difficult than the way up, and Aulenmir nearly fell down the mountain more than once. However, he finally reached his cabin just before the Sun went down.

Sirilfa was there at the door to great him. "Yay, Unca's home!" she squeaked. Before Aulenmir could respond, Noldolma pounced on him, knocking him back. Aulenmir calmed then down and started getting dinner ready. Once they were eating he told them about his day. "Well, not much happened. The Ephûl agreed to help me. Looks like we'll do fine this winter."

"We didn't do much either," said Peladin. "We mostly just gathered food."

Aulenmir chuckled. "That's what life seems to be about. Now who wants to hear more of that story?"

"We do, we do!" shouted the children.

"All right then, now where were we."

Sirilfa, hoping to impress Aulenmir, piped up immediately "Aldarion just disobeyed his father by leaving Númenor again."

"Alright, I know just where we are." Aulenmir cleared and his throat and once more began to speak.

* * *

><p>The King threw a furious and uncharacteristic fit of rage when he had heard that Aldarion had disobeyed him once again. He locked himself in his chambers for several days, allowing no one, not even his beloved Queen, to see him. Everyone was relieved when he emerged at last. The first thing he did after he left his chambers (and ate some food, of course) was to strip Aldarion of his title, Lord of the Ships and Havens of Númenor. The King closed the Guild of Ventures, and had the building in which they conducted their meetings burned to the ground. He closed the shipyards of Rómenna (though thankfully he didn't burn those), and forbade the felling of wood for the purpose of constructing ships.<p>

After five long years had passed, Aldarion returned with two new-built ships carrying fine timber from Middle-earth. However, upon seeing what Tar-Meneldur had done in his absence, Aldarion became quite angry, and he once more departed, this time with no bough, for Meneldur made sure that even Erendis was being closely watched, and he had guards patrolling the docks at Rómenna.

Aldarion ranted about his father to his first mate after they had left. "I just don't understand him, Padharion. He seems to think that my only duty as Prince should be to find myself a wife, when I have far more to do than just that. I have spent many years making sure that the ships of our great kingdom were well regulated, and then he goes and strips me of my authority. And, to make matters worse, I am sailing in three barely sea-worthy vessels, desperate for repair, and without any blessing"

Aldarion was once again gone for quite some time, and the people of Númenor began to worry. For, although the Valar blessed the ships of Númenor so that they would never founder or suffer some catastrophic fate (save for the end of Ar-Pharazôn's reign), no one had ever sailed without the blessing of a bough twice, and the length of Aldarion's absence was quite unsettling. Erendis, believing that he was not returning, and seeking to avoid the unwanted and unwarranted advances of her many suitors, wrote a letter to the Queen asking for her leave.

_Your Majesty,_

_The principle reason for my entering this household, as I believe you knew all along, was to gain Aldarion's hand in marriage. However, it seems that he has found a different bride in the sea, or in some harlot of Middle-earth, and wants me no more. So, I write to you to ask for your leave to depart Armenelos and live amongst my kin in Andustar._

_ Erendis_

Although the Queen wanted not to grant this request, she saw the truth in Erendis's letter, and had no choice but to let her go. However, fourteen years after he had left, Aldarion finally returned. He had made a long journey, traveling first to Vinyalondë, and then sailing further south than any other expedition, reaching the fabled city of Basings. However, he had nearly been shipwrecked on his return journey, and was only barely able to make it back to discover that Vinyalondë had fallen into hostile hands. He attempted to return to Númenor several times, but each time he was thwarted. Finally, only through his superior seamanship and through the help of a seamage was he able to return.

Meneldur was greatly relieved to have Aldarion back in Númenor, but he scolded him for betraying his family and his country by leaving, and therefore bringing the wrath of the Valar and Ossë upon himself and his crew. Aldarion saw his father's concern for him, and, more importantly, saw that he had been wrong to rebel against his father and sought his forgiveness, which Meneldur was only too glad to give. Meneldur restored his title and gave him the title Master of Forests.

* * *

><p>"I think that's enough for tonight," Aulenmir said with a yawn.<p>

"Aw, we barley got anywhere, Unca, complained Sirilfa.

Before Aulenmir could say anything, Peladin spoke first. "Listen to Uncle Aulenmir, Sirilfa. Let's go to sleep."

It took a bit more convincing from both of them, but finally Sirilfa went to bed.

* * *

><p>Telimperion awoke to see that Immortal was already up and making breakfast.<p>

"Well, look who finally decided to join the rest of the world," he said mirthfully. "Want some eggs? Some tea?"

Telimperion shook her head. "I'm not that hungry," she mumbled. "However," she said, her voice becoming clearer, "I believe you owe me a story."

Immortal looked a little anxious. "Are you sure you couldn't be persuaded to wait until after breakfast. I've been told that my eggs are to die for."

"I will not be put off again. You've aroused my curiosity far too much by now."

"Very well," Immortal sighed. "I shall tell you. My tale begins around 5800 years ago." Immortal paused upon seeing Telimperion's look of shock. "I've aged well," he chuckled. "Anyways, 5800 years ago, I was a young boy living in a tribe of men in the eastern region of Middle-earth, what you would now call Eriador. We called it Wajshir. The Númenoreans often visited us in those days, and they came offering us their aid and knowledge, in return for our own, which we gladly gave. It was a peaceful time. Back then, I was the son of our great leader: Nusawabet. They called me Tu-Ankh, which meant that I was destined for a great, long life. Little did we know how prophetic that name would turn out to be.

"We were visited once by the Prince of Númenor at the time; he was called Aldarion. We became friends quickly, for we were of a similar age. Those were some of the happiest days of my life. I taught him much of living in Middle-earth, and he taught me how to live on the sea. He even took me on his voyage briefly, and we sailed out of the Gulf of Lhûn.

"However, at this time there was a schism between the Elves that lived in Wajshir. Some believed that they were there to help along Men. These elves left Wajshir and went to live in other places, where they could help. Others believed that they should try to keep things as they were when they first left the West (what my people called Hamekah). These elves stayed were they were, in their little cities of solitude. However, a small group of elves believed that it was their place to rule over Men. These elves we called the Shapet.

"The Shapet terrorized Wajshir, slaughtering many. Finally, they reached our tribe. Although we put up a great fight, they eventually overwhelmed us, killing Nusawabet and kidnapping me. I later learned that this action caused the remaining tribes in the area to band together and destroy the Shapet army.

The few Shapet who survived this war kept me prisoner, along with several other Men. They experimented on us, performing test after horrible test. One after one, the prisoners died. Those who survived, however, grew stranger and stranger, less and less like a Man than when they had entered. After several years of this torture, I was the only one left."

"They performed one final experiment on me. I believe they thought that it would kill me, but it didn't. As a matter of fact, at first it had no visible effects. The Shapet would have tested me until they discovered these effects, but they were finally found by the allied group of tribes and destroyed. In the ensuing chaos I fled, and ended up wandering south to Dunland.

"There, they excepted me and brought me up as one of their own. I was peaceful their, until someone from my tribe discovered me. He said they had been searching for me for several years now, for they had discovered what it was the Shapet had done to me. They had read the papers that they had discovered in the Shapet fortress and had realized what they were doing: They were trying to find a way to turn Men into elves, and with me they had partially succeeded. Although I didn't have many of the physical or mystical attributes of an elf, I did have one thing they possessed. You see, they had figured a way to prevent me from sickening, and had strengthened my body so that I wouldn't die of old age or be killed by most other means. Finally, using the dark art of Necromancy, they figured a way to permanently bind my soul to my body, cursing me to live forever. For nearly 5700 years now, I have wandered this world, seeking some way to end my life, but finding none."

Telimperion's eyes glistened with tears. "That's horrible," she whispered.

"I know," Immortal said grimly. "I know."

Telimperion and Immortal ate breakfast in silence, when Telimperion suddenly had an idea. "I know what we can do," she said.

"What?" asked Immortal.

"I am traveling to Minas Tirith to beseech King Elessar for his aid. You can come with me and we can report on the Keraq'ar and see if he knows a way to fix your curse."

Immortal eyed Telimperion skeptically. "I don't know if that will work…" he began.

Telimperion cut him off. "It can't hurt to try. Plus, I need a big strong man like you to protect me," she added.

Immortal gave her an annoyed look. "Don't try that on me. I think you can defend yourself just fine," seeing Telimperion's upset look he added: "but I will come with you."

Telimperion smiled victoriously. "All right, then. We leave tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Mermacil and the others awoke with the sun, knowing that they would want to get in and out of Torech Ungol while the sun was still out. The conditions in the Ephel Duath were still as bad as they had been the day before, so the party did not spend long before moving out. They had brought many, many torches, so the caverns were well illuminated and they were sure not to run out of light.<p>

Every now and then, they would here noises that seemed to be coming from just around the corner. However, every time they got near, the noises faded and it was revealed that there was nothing there. The party must have been walking for over four hours when they came to a series of webs that lucked as though they had been freshly spun. Although they had originally been planning on resting soon, they decided to keep moving on and get out as soon as they could.

Suddenly, Lt. Samnon spun around. "Did anyone else hear that?" he said in his gruff voice. They all shook their heads when suddenly Kith'tar said, "Wait, I hear it too." They all paused and listened as hard as they could. Mermacil was soon able to make out a noise that sounded disturbingly like a large animal slowly moving along the ground. Soon, they all could hear it.

Hannish suddenly screamed, "There it is!" In front of him was a spider that must have been half his height. Mermacil could see at once that this was certainly not She-lob; it must have been one of her spawn. Quickly, he had his dagger out and stabbed the spider through the head.

The group all briefly laughed once they realized that what they had been so frightened of was hardly the threat that they had imagined it to be. They moved quickly all the same, and breathed a collective sigh of relief when they got out.

"So, what exactly do you think we're going to find?" Elarë asked.

" I don't know what exactly. All Faramir said was that he had reports of Orcish activity-" Mermacil cut off abruptly.

"What is it?" said Elarë sharply. "What did he-" Elarë cut off to. It was unlike her to finish a question. The others rushed over to see what they were so shocked at.

Spread out in front of them, stretching all across the entire Plateau of Gorgoroth was a massive encampment. Hundreds of thousands of orcs were down there, milling around. The encampment was more than mere tents, though it had plenty of those. There were many smithies, stables, training grounds, and even entire market places for goods to be sold.

"Sweet Morgoth," muttered Hannish.

"What do we do know?" said Elarë.

"Do we leave?" asked Lt. Samnon.

"No," Mermacil said grimly. "We're heading in. We need to find out what all these orcs are doing here, and were they came from. Is there anyone who thinks they're not up to that." He was answered by a chorus of "No" and vigorous head shaking. "Good," he said with a grim smile. "Tonight, we camp here. Tomorrow, we have some work to do."

* * *

><p>Getting out of Hyarragash took Parthekos over two hours. The city was truly massive, and the temple sat right in the middle of it. The closest village was over eight hours away, so that was were Parthekos stayed for the night. The villagers dared not refuse a priest who was of Ossaon rank. After he ate dinner with the villagers, Parthekos retired to the small house the villagers had lent him for the night. He reflected on the Kirranmar religion.<p>

The religion was massive, in every way imaginable. There were massive temples, massive worshipping, massive amounts of believers, massive festivities, and a massive pantheon. The Kirranmar had a god for nearly everything. A god of light and a god of darkness. A god of a life and a god of death. For every imaginable concept, there was a god or goddess. The greatest of all these gods was Azao. The Sun was absolutely central to the Kirranmar, and that is why they venerated it so. They appreciated the Moon, sure, but they did not love it like they did the Sun. Other gods had priests and temples, but no god had as many priests or as large a temple as Azao.

Hyarragash was built around the Sun. Buildings were constructed so that as little shadow was created as possible. They were also made so that the sun would highlight specific parts of them at specific times of the day. Massive sundials were created for the purpose of measuring the time of day and year. The Kirranmar spurned the western ways of telling time. It was a truly grand city, and Parthekos was happy to live there, and sad to be leaving. However, he had a grand duty to perform, and he wanted nothing to get in his way. Tomorrow, he would set out and let nothing stop from reaching the Orocarni.

* * *

><p>Altariel sighed in frustration. Those damn hobbits! It seemed as though they were going out of their way to make her life more difficult. She has left Aulenmir and the others so that she could finally enjoy herself, not so that she would be pestered and irritated every damn step of the way! Altariel had agreed to go north, and she quickly left Gondor, heading up into Eriador. There, she got a job in the relatively new government. Originally, she was nothing but a secretary, but she did well, and was quite ruthless when it came to making her way in the world. Soon, her job was to ensure that everything was going well in the Shire, and that it remained a free land.<p>

This turned out to be more difficult a task than she had originally thought. Lots of men wanted to visit the Shire to see the legendary ringbearer, Mayor Samwise of Hobbiton. In addition, the Hobbits were free to travel as they pleased, so controlling the border was nearly impossible, especially with the limited resources that she was getting from Minas Tirith.

Also, the Hobbits seemed to have an unnatural love of pranks. They caused all sorts of confusion and delay in the towns outside of the Shire, especially in Bree. They probably did the same inside the Shire, but that wasn't what Altariel had to worry about. Tensions were rising between the Hobbits and Men, and Altariel had been forced to schedule a meeting with Mayor Samwise, in Bree. Of course, they would have to meet in secret, or else they would be crowded by fangirls of all kinds (And probably more than a few fanboys as well).

"Mara!" she yelled, calling out to her secretary.

"Yes, Lady Altariel?" Mara said obediently.

"Get me a meeting with Steward Arvegil. I have some urgent matters that require his insight."

Mara gulped. Steward Arvegil did not like to be bothered. "Of-of course, Lady Altariel."

Altariel scowled. She would bring order to Eriador, at any cost.


	7. Chapter 6

**Originally, I was going to have everyone in this one, but it was getting quite long. We will see what Parthekos and Mermacil have been up to next time!**

_Tar-Palantir was by far the best King I ever served under. I know it is treasonous for me to write these words, but they are true regardless. Ar-Gimilzôr was a brute, who cared for no one and nothing but himself, not even the country he was supposed to serve. He bullied those who wouldn't listen to him, and abused those who did. The scribe who I replaced, Artherus, was a replacement for a scribe named Reagain, who had replaced Ar-Gimilzor's original court scribe, Elerdain. Ar-Gimilzôr tended to go through servants quickly, no matter what they did or who they were. I was only able to survive by relaying my work through others. Ar-Gimilzôr, uncharacteristically approved of my work and promoted first to Executive court scribe, then to Prefect court scribe, to Assistant Steward, and finally, when Steward Gimilzain, one of my few friends in the palace, sadly passed away, to Steward._

_As you may have guessed, I did not like Ar-Gimilzôr much, and I avoided him as best I could. We were forced to interact during the occasional Council meeting, but back then those happened far less frequently and were much smaller affairs. However, I did get to know his family quite well. His wife, Inzilbêth was a lovely person, one of the finest that I've ever met. Her marriage to Ar-Gimilzôr was entirely political, or so I assume, since the two of them never got along well on the few occasions I saw them together and they had no common interests. A few sources of mine even claimed that she was one of the Faithful._

_His eldest son would one day inherit the throne and take the name Tar-Palantir. He was very much like his mother, although he did have quite a temper that he inherited from his father. People say they always found him to be very calm, but I know that he was just very good at controlling that inner rage that destroyed his father. I loved Tar-Palantir because he was always so driven to not be like his father. He came very close to openly supporting the Faithful, and removed many of the acts that Ar-Gimilzôr had instated declaring all members of the faithful traitors. It was an honor to serve under him, and unlike his father I wished to be with him as often as possible._

_His other son, Gimilkhâd, on the other hand, was just like his father, if not worse. He was often away from home, however, because he was an admiral in the Númenorean Navy and was often in Endor, fighting against the peoples there. He did not have much of an impact on this world, but his son, Pharazôn, did. He forced Tar-Palantir's daughter, Ar-Zimraphel into marriage as soon as he died and became King. Surprisingly, I almost like Ar-Pharazôn. He has a cunning intellect and appreciation for others that his father and grandfather lacked. Serving under him shall be interesting indeed._

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>By now, everyone at the cabin had fallen into a routine. By day, they worked to gather food and other essential items they would need. At night, they would gather around the fire or dinner table and listen to Aulenmir's fascinating stories. He had taken a break from telling the tale of Aldarion and Erendis and switched to telling them an epic cycle of myths passed down from generation to generation via oral tradition. The stories were told by the Tsareal people of what is now Ithilien. The Tsareal lived there over 5000 years ago, but for some reason they headed east and never returned. Aulenmir had learned some of their myths from a few Gondorians with Tsareal blood and relished telling people of this exotic culture that once populated present-day Gondor.<p>

Tonight, however, Aulenmir decided to switch back to Aldarion and Erendis. Their tale was long, and he wanted to be sure he finished it before Telimperion came back. After all, he had many more stories to tell. Tonight, he started early so that he would indeed have plenty of time.

"Are we going to learn more about Kaji-Jaki tonight, Uncle?" said Peladin. Kaji-Jaki was a villain from one of the myths. Aulenmir had told the kids there was more to him than met the eye and ever since they had wanted to know more about him. However, Aulenmir decided to keep them in suspense for a few more nights.

"No, tonight we will resume Aldarion and Erendis," he declared.

"Awww, I liked the other stories you were telling us," complained Sirilfa.

"But didn't you like Aldarion too?" Aulenmir asked.

"I guess," she said.

"Good. Then it's settled. I suggest you two get comfortable; we will be going a bit longer tonight."

"Why?" asked Peladin.

"I don't know how much time we have left together, and I don't want to finish the story before anything urgent requires my attention. Plus, I also want to tell you the story of how our family lineage connects to Aldarion, which will take quite some time. Now, no more interruptions! It's time to begin!"

* * *

><p>Aldarion was, of course, upset to learn that Erendis had left, but wasn't terribly surprised. No one else was really, and most of the people in Armenelos went on to say that it was all Aldarion's fault. Tar-Meneldur couldn't help but be smug at his son's reaction, for it served his cause, but Altariel was upset to see her son likewise upset. She counseled her son to seek Erendis and ask for her hand in marriage, but Aldarion was far too proud to do that. Also, the many things that he had neglected in his long absence distracted him. The harbors and fleets were in states of disrepair and the many once proud forests of Númenor had had timber taken from them with forethought for the future of those forests. Aldarion set about to repair these ills. He put his new titles to good work, utilizing them to give him control over the forestry industry in Númenor. He hoped the new orders he enacted would be able to repair the damage. Aldarion attempted to oversee the enactment of these orders as much as he could; he wanted nothing to go wrong.<p>

One day, as he was riding through the woods, inspecting how much damage had been dealt to Númenor's once thriving ecosystem, he spotted a beautiful woman walking through the woods. She had hair far darker than most Númenoreans and wore a green cloak with a bejeweled clasp. At first he mistook her for one of the Eldar, so great was her austere majesty. However, as the woman approached he saw that he had mistaken her and she was in fact Erendis. Erendis, upon seeing him, began to leave in haste.

As she did so, Aldarion called to her, saying, "Please, Erendis, my love! I know that I have deserted you and made you look a fool for pining for me. But please, accept my sincerest apology. I will ask for your hand and stray never from your side again!"

And Erendis, finding it in her heart to forgive him, rode with him to her father's house. There, Aldarion once more made clear his desire to wed Erendis.

However, Erendis became hesitant to wed him. For, though she was more than of age to marry, and though she indeed desire Aldarion, and though he had promised himself to her, she worried still that the Sea would yet claim Aldarion's heart and soul, and she would lose him once more. And Erendis, being in many ways as proud and noble as Aldarion, refused to gamble so desperately; she would either take all or risk nothing. She decided that she would both have Aldarion completely and defeat the Sea utterly, at once ending the felling of the trees that were her own love, or she would move on from Aldarion at last.

Aldarion was quite persuasive, and talked to her with sweet words that would have moved Manwë himself. Erendis became his utmost concern; where she would go he would follow. Often, she would turn and face him, mockingly saying that he should return to the ocean he loved so much. But Aldarion pressed on, neglecting his havens and ships, his guild and the business of forestry, except in ensuring that trees were planted. Aldarion was truly love struck, and now that he cared for Erendis but could still not have her, she became his sole desire.

* * *

><p>Sirilfa suddenly interrupted Aulenmir's smooth narrative. "Unca, why didn't Erendis stop Aldarion?"<p>

Aulenmir was puzzled; no one had ever asked him this question before. "What do you mean by that, Sirilfa?"

Sirilfa paused, carefully choosing her words. "Well, if Aldarion was bugging Erendis so much, why didn't she make him stop? Like, find some soldiers and have them keep him away."

"Well, I doubt any soldiers would have been able to stop their crown prince."

Sirilfa stomped her foot. "That's not the point!"

"Well, to be honest, the Númenorean society wasn't really concerned by this sort of behavior. They probably thought it was normal behavior."

"That's not nice."

Aulenmir thought for a while. "No, I suppose not."

Peladin took advantage of the momentary lull in narrative to ask a question that had long been puzzling him. Peladin was very interested in world history; less so in romance. He did not yet see how in this world the two were often closely related. He took a deep breath and gathered his courage. "Uncle?" he queried hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"What was happening in the world at this time?"

"Your question is a somewhat difficult one to answer. This was in the year-" Aulenmir paused and grabbed a book from his bookshelf, flipping through the pages. "-844, I believe. In the regions of Western Endor, very little was happening. In the lands of Harad, a rare moment of stability, usually only achieved when the Dark Lord or the Nine exerted their influence over that land, was occurring. That region reached a temporary moment of prosperity, accompanied by fortune climate and excellent harvests. The only remaining effects of this time are the city Besapah and the grand ruins located nearby. It is theorized that these ruins were once temples.

In the eastern regions of Endor, the city-states were growing in power, aided by Númenorean trade. The coastal areas grew especially quickly, but the cities in the desert rose to power as well. In the plains, the Rochanach began cutting out a large empire for themselves, which still survives today in the form of the Râch Empire. The Avari culture stayed largely the same, as the Elves are slow to change. Somehow, despite no new innovations and changes in leadership (or anything really), they remained a dominating power in that section of the world.

As for the rest of the world, little is known, for those regions remain unexplored even today. Like I said, a rather dull moment in our history. Things in the Second Age only start to get really interesting with the invention of the Rings of Power."

Hearing a mention of the Rings, Peladin grew even more focused. "Can we talk about those?" he asked excitedly.

Aulenmir chuckled. "Maybe someday," he said. "Now, let us return to the story. We still have quite a bit to cover."

* * *

><p>At last, perhaps only to get him to stop, Erendis agreed to accompany Aldarion on a voyage around Númenor in his ship Eämbar. It was the hundredth anniversary of the founding of the Guild of Ventures, and Aldarion wished to take Erendis to all the festivities that would be taking place in the many harbors of Númenor. Although it went against the very core of her being, Erendis agreed indeed, not showing her disgust to Aldarion, and left with him from Rómenna.<p>

They came to Andúnië, where Valandil, Aldarion's close cousin and ancestor of great men such as Amandil, Elendil, and Anarion, lived. He held a great feast in honor of Erendis, and the men there all praised, and held a toast to her. They called her _Uinéniel_, which means quite literally, Daughter of Uinen, Lady of the Sea.

Erendis was enraged by the toast, and she rose to her feet, proclaiming loudly. "Say no such things of me. I am no daughter of the sea hag; rather I am her greatest foe."

Once more, doubts of Aldarion's true loyalty attacked Erendis, and she became once again opposed to marriage. This was not helped by the fact that Aldarion, upon returning to Rómenna, began building there a great sea wall, a built a great light tower upon the isle of Tol Uinen. This tower was called Calmindon, which, rather pointless, means Light-tower.

However, once this was done Aldarion returned to Erendis and again asked for her hand in marriage. Erendis decided to stall for time and test his loyalty. She said that she had made her travel with him upon the roaring seas and that it was now his turn. "If you are true, you will accompany me on a voyage around the place _I_ love: this island. This serves you well, for in order to become a great King you most know the place you rule well."

Aldarion, seeing little choice in the matter, consented to travel with Erendis as she had traveled with him. They traveled together to the calm grasslands of Emerië, where shepherds raised their flocks and farmers grew their grain, and together they listened to the calming wind and they bleating of many, many sheep. Erendis declared that she could be quite comfortable in such lands.

"And in these lands you may live, and in luxuries fair houses, if you are the wife of the King's Heir, or the King's Queen."

"When you at last become King, I shall be quite old. Until then, where will you dwell?"

"With you of course," replied Aldarion, "Should I be on this island, unless you share with me my work."

Erendis at once turned cold. "I shall not 'share' you with the 'Lady' Uinen," she stated.

"That is an unfair remark, my love," said Aldarion. "I might as well say that I cannot live with you, for I have no wish to share you with Oromë, he who his lord of the forests, for you love the forests of Númenor as I love its seas."

However, Erendis purposely missed his point, as he missed hers, and replied, "Certainly not. Not if you continue to cut down my Lord's trees for your Lady."

"Name a tree that you love, and it shall remain untouched until it should die naturally," promised Aldarion, desperate to win Erendis. However, Erendis was unmoved, and responded,

"I love all trees that are upon Arda." After that, an awkward silence reigned between them, and they parted, each returning to the houses of their parents. Erendis spoke to her mother about what had occurred between herself and Aldarion.

Núneth, her mother, had plenty of advice that wasn't much to Erendis's liking. "You must be satisfied with something less than all, my child. The Prince is a great man, and is of a great rank, and I can tell that despite your misgivings you love him very much. To tear this man out of your heart would pain you more than you or I could bear. Therefore, you must be able to accept that he has work and cannot be always just with you, nor can he fully dedicate himself to you.

"You must be able to share in his work in order to fully be with him. I suspect that you will not take this counsel of mine though. You were always a stubborn child. Still, I had hoped to find you wed by this time, for you are well of age. Indeed, I had hoped that you were bearing me beautiful grandchildren, and it wouldn't hurt to have these grandchildren raised in a grand palace."

As Núneth predicted, her words could not change the mind of Erendis. However, the heart is a strange organ, and cares little for what the mind thinks it wants. Were people truly ruled by theirs minds and not their wants, I suspect this world would be in better shape. Anyway, despite what she thought, she felt as though she spent the following days empty. This feeling was made stronger by the fact that Aldarion was always on the island, and yet they never saw one another.

Almarian and Núneth, although they otherwise would probably have never even known of one another, were bound by common circumstances and found plenty of time to communicate with each other. Almarian soon found out that Erendis had refused the advances of Aldarion and feared that he would once more depart into the willing refuge of the sea. She at last grew desperate enough that she herself reached out to Erendis and begged that she return to Armenelos.

There, great efforts by Almarian (I am, in some ways, convinced that she is the true hero of this story), Erendis and Aldarion were finally brought together. In the spring of that year, despite everyone's misgivings, they ascended, along with the rest of the King's retinue, to the very peak of Meneltarma, the holy mountain upon which the Númenoreans praised Eru. Then, the others descended and Aldarion and Erendis remained.

And up there they gazed over the world, for from Meneltarma nearly all of the world could be glimpsed. They saw Númenor in all its verdant glory spread out before them, and glimpsed Tol Erressëa out in the far West. Beyond that, visible as a dim blur, were the mighty Pelóri that marked the border of Valinor and Araman.

As they descended, blissful and happy, Erendis asked, "Do you not love your island greatly, for it is the most beautiful thing in this world?"

And Aldarion replied, "Indeed, I love it, but also I think of what it might become, and how it could be improved. Also, I think that you doubt because of this, because you do not think it should change."

Erendis denied his charge, saying, "The gifts that Eru gives us are not ours to barter away as we will, but rather are ours to cherish and love forever. We, the Edain, are mortal, and it is our place to dwell on what is, not on what may be. That is the province of the Valar." To prove her point, Erendis ripped her precious clasp from her cloak and asked, "Would you change this say that it might become better? Do you think of what I might become?"

"No," said Aldarion, "but you cannot say that your clasp is perfect, or that you will never change. You demean yourself, however, by comparing yourself to the clasp." And with that said he kissed her upon her eyes, and they put aside their unease and fear, and pledged themselves to one another.

When they fully descended, Aldarion presented Erendis to his father, Tar-Meneldur, as his betrothed, and there was much rejoicing, by both the King and the people.

As a betrothal gift, Erendis was given her promised land and house in Emerië. Aldarion said that he would give her many jewels. However, Erendis spurned this gift, saying she would wear only the diamond that had been given to her much earlier by him. She had this diamond set in a silver fillet, which he then bound to her head. From then on, until she removed the fillet, she was known as Tar-Elestirnë, which means Queen Star-brow.

At last, Númenor experienced a full period of peace, with no squabbling or discontent in the royal family. The trading that Aldarion had set up continued to reward Númenor richly, even if he was no longer active. It is said that the summer of that year, which was 858, was especially fruitful.

* * *

><p>Aulenmir paused there, deciding that it made a fighting stopping point. Sirilfa was very excited about what had happened. "Yaay, they finally got together!" she cried. Peladin, however, had a feeling that things weren't over yet.<p>

"Didn't you say there was more to come?" he asked.

"Very astute, Peladin," said Aulenmir. "Indeed, there is more to come, and it may be yet revealed that all ain't quite so well after all. However, we will found out on a different night. Now, it is time for bed!"

It turned out to be very good that Aulenmir had started early, for it was quite late. Aulenmir sensed that waking the two up early tomorrow wouldn't go so smoothly unless he really convinced them. It just so happened he had just the perfect activity in mind. He tucked the children in and was soon sound asleep himself.

* * *

><p>Telimperion and Immortal set a quick pace, for they both new that it was of utmost importance in many ways that they reach Minas Tirith as soon as possible. Having lived in these mountains for longer than any other being (except for those truly ancient beings of awe that dwell still at the roots of those mountains), he knew many of the shortcuts that would take them there are all the quicker.<p>

"You see," he said conversationally one day as they were brewing tea before once more starting up, "When Minas Tirith was created they cut it right out of the Ered Nimrais, creating all sorts of paths and mines and caves. Over time, several of the native men of the area widened these paths so that if there was ever a need they could seek refuge in Minas Tirith. These are the paths we shall take."

Over the week that they traveled, they continued to talk and talk. Immortal, despite not having had much human contact in recent years, was quite a conversationalist, and excelled at being charming at all things. Telimperion felt herself opening up to him. For the first time, she had found someone to talk to about the mess that was her family. Immortal agreed with her point of view, of course.

In turn, Immortal found himself, now that he actually had contact with a human, interacting with Telimperion as much as possible. He hadn't had a real friend for most of his long, sad life, and he was glad to have one now. Despite their many differences, they shared several things, such as their love of tea, adventure, and family.

At last, after a week of journeying, they came to the last step before they reached Minas Tirith.

"This is the shortest mine between here and Minas Tirith," he explained. "However, it is still quite dangerous."

Telimperion was worried. "How?" she asked.

"Any number of things could go wrong. The mine could collapse, killing us or sealing us in. One of the wild things in there could attack us. Hell, there could even be some kind of trap in there!"

"If it will get us to Minas Tirith," she said calmly, "I am willing to risk it."

"As you wish," he replied.

They made surprisingly quick progress. Immortal, used to climbing about, helped Telimperion get through the mines. Telimperion helped ensure that the mine wasn't about the come crumbling down on them. Several times, they almost lost their way, but luckily they found it again. There were beginning to run low on supplies when Telimperion felt fresh air. She hadn't realized how stale the air in the mine had been.

"I think we are almost there!" she cried out.

"Good! Keep going!" he replied.

Finally, they came out of the mine and got their first look at the city of Minas Tirith. The city was an absolutely stunning site to behold. However had built that plans for the city must have been divinely inspired, for no other genius could have created a work so fabulous. The city was made of beautiful white marble that gleamed in the noon sunlight. The city was a monument to cleanliness and purity.

Throughout the city were seven walls, carving an intricate and delicate pattern into the mound that the city was built atop. Threaded through the many shops and homes that clustered about the walls was a magnificent wide road, thronged with bustling city-life. At the center of it all was the White Tower.

The White Tower rose out from the top of the mound like a mountain crest reaching for the sky. It defied belief with its immense height, which Immortal claimed rivaled that of Isengard. It was here that decisions that determined the fate of the world were made.

Dizzy at the sight of it all, Telimperion had to sit down. Immortal soon joined her. "It's…it's so beautiful!"

"And so big," he added. Seeing that Telimperion was in no condition to continue after the harrowing hike through the mine, he said, "How about we stop here and hike down to the Great Gates so that we may properly enter the city?"

Telimperion yawned. "Sounds good to me." They quickly set up camp and were soon fast asleep.

* * *

><p>Altariel woke up early and fixed herself a strong cup of tea. Today, she had decided, was the day she would visit both Mayor Samwise and Arvegil. Tensions were rising at an alarming rate, and it was her responsibility to crush them. She wasn't entirely sure why things were boiling over like this. Everything she had heard growing up indicated that hobbits were largely reasonable (especially the middle-aged ones, the young ones tended to cause a ruckus everywhere and the elderly could be unreasonably stubborn) and very lazy. Not at all the sort of folks who would cause trouble of this sort.<p>

From the men of Eriador, Altariel might have expected it. Many of them were Dunlendings, and Altariel didn't trust men (or anyone, really) of that stock. Even the rangers, usually prone to enforcing the law, chafed under the restrictions that came with once again being part of a kingdom, and refused to listen to many of them.

However, the cause of all this trouble seemed to have come from both sides. Altariel couldn't quite determine what the precise cause was, however. Her real goal with meeting with the two leaders was in part to see how she could settle this dispute, but was really to learn who and what had caused, and why.

Most outsiders would have thought that the hobbits were behind the chaos, as found as they were of jests and japes. Indeed, before doing a bit more research Altariel had fallen into this trap as well. However, she quickly realized that the hobbits would never go this far, and that something else must be causing all this trouble. However, aside from the aforementioned fanpeople, Dunlendings, and rangers, there weren't really all that many men interested in causing trouble with the hobbits.

Altariel was writing all these things done; she believed in recording almost everything. If something happened to her, Mara would be able to take over. Speaking of which…

"Mara!" snapped Altariel.

"Y-yes, L-lady Altariel?" Mara stammered.

"I'm going out on personal business. If anyone comes in asking for me, tell them I am gone and will not be back for a few hours. If it is Steward Arvegil, tell him I will come see him once I am back."

"Of course, Lady Altariel."  
>Her words went unheard, for Altariel had already left. Outside of the government building it was raining quite fiercely, and Altariel was beginning to wish that she had brought a cloak. She walked quickly to Bree and stepped into one of its less-than-famous inns, the Silver Wyrm. Yes, the naming was not accidental.<p>

It was here that she had agreed to secretly meet with Mayor Samwise Gamgee to discuss the problems occurring. In the note he had sent her, he told her that he would be waiting for her inside. She stepped into the dark, odd-smelling tavern, not seeing the Mayor.

A low voice called out to her. "Over here, miss!" She turned and saw that seated at one of the hobbit tables was the man she was looking for. She quickly hurried over.

"You understand why I am here, of course," she said in an undertone.

"Yes, I'm afraid I do, Lady Altariel, miss," Sam said, speaking in a more normal tone. "You wants to know why these tensions are suddenly occurring."

She nodded urgently.

"Well, I can't do much, but I can try my best, miss. Until about a month ago, thing were just fine. Sure, there was some folks who just couldn't keep to their side of the bargain, and some folks who abused theirs, but that was to be expected when Strider set up this thing.

"Strider?" Altariel interrupted.

The Mayor blushed. "Oh dear. I keep forgettin' to call him by his other name now. Elessar, that's it." Ignoring Altariel's slack-jawed look at this revelation (she knew that the Mayor knew the King, but not how well), he pressed on. "Anyways, things were moving along fine. We had another beautiful harvest this year, accompanied by some absolutely splendid fall colors, if I do say so myself. However, something horrible began happening. We were finding dead hobbits lying about outside on the road. Not just dead from old age either; they were brutally murdered!"

Altariel frowned. "How have I not heard of this?"

"Er…well, the thing is the Thain thought it was best if we kept this an internal affair until the Sheriffs figured things out, until…" he trailed off.

"Until hobbits began blaming and attack Men," she finished for him.

"Exactly, miss. Some of the untrustworthy and unruly hobbits have begun to speak out, you see. They complain that things were much better before the War. Why, I even heard some folks who out to be ashamed of themselves say that we were better off under Sharky than Elessar!"

Altariel was similarly shocked. She didn't realize that there were some hobbits that didn't like being a protectorate of the Reunited Kingdom. She guessed there were some folks who just weren't used to having to serve a King again.

"So, now you've come to see me, hoping that I can help mend things," guessed Altariel.

Mayor Samwise nodded. "That's my way of thinkin'. In fact, I was thinking about letting you come in and help with the investigation, but willing circumventing the decree wouldn't be a smart idea at this time, if you catch my meaning. So, instead I will keep you periodically updated and ask for your input."

Altariel nodded. "Well, thanks for seeing me, Sir."

Sam beamed uncomfortably. "Please, just call me Sam."

When Altariel got back, an anxious Mara was waiting for her. "Umm, the S-steward came by. Seems he thought it was urgent that he talk with you." Altariel scowled crossly; she had hoped to think Sam's case over before seeing Arvegil. However, she definitely couldn't risk snubbing the Steward; without his cooperation solving this mystery would become a lot more difficult. Thinking she had done something wrong, Mara stepped closer and said, "I'm sorry, Lady Altariel, I didn't mean-"

Altariel cut her off. "Don't worry, Mara. It's not your fault. I don't understand why King Elessar assigned him to this position; he's just not the right man."

Encouraged by Altariel, Mara spoke again. "I think he's some kind of distant relative, my Lady."

That got Altariel interested. "Is he now? I wonder…. Well, I best not keep him waiting!" She hurried out again, this time grabbing a cloak. The rain had worsened.

* * *

><p>Liriel stood up and brushed the dirt from her hands. So far, this most recent lead seemed very promising; the soil had every feature that she had come to expect. She walked back over to the tent where Pazij and Guband had set up their tent. The two women were arguing furiously with each other when she arrived.<p>

"I am telling you, there is no way that the eruption could have occurred that year! The Matropathi records strongly indicate that they built a city near the mountain just that year" Pazij yelled.

"Then how do you explain the annals of the Gurul, which describe, in explicit detail how the eruption destroyed their western farmland and-" Guband broke off when Liriel entered the tent.

"I think we found a site. I guess we'll soon find out whether or not that's a good thing." From the looks on their faces, Pazij and Guband did not seem to think that it would turn out to be good.

"I'll go and tell the soldiers that we may need them soon," said Pazij, all arguments put on the backburner.

Guband nodded her acknowledgement. "And I will inform our fellow excavators that we will start digging-when exactly?" she asked.

Liriel glanced at the sun and at the looming clouds in the horizon. "Tell both the soldiers and the excavators that we will wait until tomorrow and see what the weather brings. I will go about bringing our stuff inside and putting on the WW protections. Let's go." At her command, they split up to carry out their duties.

Liriel had left before any of the others had, the third night after the fight. She had guessed, based on some of their discussions, where everyone would head. Parthekos had always had an inner loving of Eastern culture. Liriel guessed that he would head east, although he probably wouldn't realize it at first. She knew that Altariel tended to be somewhat lazy, and would want to experience the bliss of the Shire. Aulenmir had already pretty much outright stated his desire to remove himself from society, and Telimperion with her commanding attitude had claimed the farm. Mermacil had been the only unknown, but she had guessed he wouldn't head south, so that is where she went.

In Haradwaith, everything had been united into one main country (conveniently called Harad) by Sauron in his armies. However, once his influence vanished, Harad began to split. Some of the new kingdoms (but nowhere near all of them) were Harondor, Khand, the city-state of Umbar, the Kirish Empire, Basings, Freljar, Sundartan, and the Barish Empire. Harondor and Khand had quickly been absorbed into the Reunited Kingdom, but the others remained independent.

When she arrived in Madagai, the capitol of the Kirish Empire, she found it in a state of absolute chaos. It seemed that everything that could go wrong had happened there. The crops had failed, many rulers had fallen, civil war reigned, and the weather seemed almost malevolent in its destructiveness. The city soon collapsed under the unrelenting weight of these problems. Shortly afterwards, the Kirish Empire shattered into several doomed city-states.

She relocated to Darusaj, a nearby city in the Barish Empire. It was there that she discovered what the problem was. Swarms of wraiths, ghosts, and other undead had been attacking the city-state, ending in its utter destruction. They had been moving northward from the very depths of Southern Haradwaith, leaving nothing in their wake, swallowing entire civilizations.

The people of Haradwaith became desperate to figure what was behind the Swarm, as it was called, and end it. Liriel was also concerned, both because she didn't want her new refuge to be destroyed and because she was worried for Gondor. She knew that the Swarm must be ended as soon as possible; for it grew using the bodies of those it killed.

While almost no one had answers, a few intellectuals had suspicions behind the cause of the Swarm. They suspected that the cause lay in a set of ruins know as the Swazverai. Very little was known about these ruins, save that they were magical in origin. Liriel volunteered to join a team of archeologists and anthropologists that was helping to excavate the ruins.

While gathering information in a nearby village, she learned that all the soil of places where the Swarm had been had shown some unique traits, i.e., things not seen in any other soils. Liriel hypothesized that if one of the Swazverai had soil like this, it might contain an answer. It appeared that they had found their lead, although it remained to be seen if it would pay off.


	8. Chapter 7

_Sometimes, I wonder if Ar-Pharazôn thinks things through before he demands them to be done. For example, he today asked that I be taught how to play a variety of musical instruments to, in his own words "broaden my talents so that I may be of greater use to my people". What greater use, I want to ask? I have a specific job and I must concentrate on it to perform well._

_To use a somewhat more serious example, I (and no doubt many others) question his decision to capture Sauron and bring him back. That man is a plague upon this land, corrupting and maiming whatever he gazes upon. I wonder, from time to time, if we should have attempted to kill him when we had the chance. According to the Elves (if they're right about what he is), killing him would be difficult, but possible. Especially with an entire army._

_Or with Altordinair. One precaution that Ar-Pharazôn actually took before invading Sauron's lands in Endor was forging a weapon capable of fighting Sauron. Forged out of pure mithril enhanced with a special alloy created by Fëanor himself, the weapon cost more than the cost of the fleet three times over. If anything could kill him, Altordinair could. For those curious, the name is Laxyan for Entity-Slayer._

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>Mermacil and the rest of the group awoke before dawn. Quickly, Mermacil organized them into roles. "Okay, here's our plan. Hannish, you keep a perimeter around us. If you come across any lookouts or any loners who spot us, silence them. Lt. Samnon, do the same. Kith'tar, you shall lead the way. Elarë will stay with me."<p>

The two men drifted out, moving slowly and quietly in the early morning. "Where exactly are we head, Mermacil?" asked Kith'tar.

"I want to find out what this army is doing here, and that requires somehow getting into the camp."

Elarë stared at him, shocked. "That's impossible. There's no way to infiltrate this camp!"

Mermacil frowned in puzzlement. "Why is that? We've done it before, and in camps of smaller size.

"Yes," she hissed, "But take a look and you'll notice there is a crucial difference between this army and those ones."

Mermacil peered out in front of him. "I can't see anything now, but earlier when we first say them I didn't notice anything."

Elarë rolled her eyes at him. "There are no Men in this encampment. Anyone that we send in as a spy will stick out like a sore thumb-no, like a sixth finger!"

Mermacil's eyes widened as he realized that what she was saying was only all too true. "Damn!" he swore. _Looks like we need a new plan_¸ he thought to himself. He began to think aloud. "Okay, then sneaking into the camp is right out. Also, there's unlikely to be any informants from the orcs. It's not likely that they're all dead loyal to whatever force is commanding them, but it's equally unlikely that they will be very willing to talk to us."

"I have a plan," said Kith'tar. Mermacil looked at him with interest.

"Go on," he commanded.

"When you picked me as diplomat, no doubt you imagined that I would be engaging in diplomacy with other Men. Well, I think I know where we can find some."

"Where?" said Elarë.

"In Nurn," he replied. "It's a long walk to the south of here, but it may be worth it. Also, we may want to track down however originally informed Lord Faramir."

Mermacil thought Kith'tar's suggestion over, and then came to a decision. He signaled for Hannish and Lt. Samnon to return. "All right, we have a new plan," he announced. "We are going to try and get past this horde. Not an easy task, I'll grant, but we should be able to accomplish it assuming they are not too worried about people moving through their lands.

"From there, we attempt to reach Lord Faramir's informants. I have their last recorded locations in my mission briefing. After that, we head south to Nurn to see what information can be gained there. Sound good?"

Everyone nodded in agreement. Soon they had resumed their earlier formation and where heading in a southerly direction. Mermacil directed Kith'tar to lead them to a place between the Plateau of Gorgoroth and Nurn known as the "Guard House". This was there the informants had been stationed and where they should be currently.

They traveled all day, stopping only once where they eat a quick lunch. Despite it being winter, it was somehow still burning in Mordor. Mermacil hadn't realized that Orodruin affected the climate so much. Although they had made lots of progress, it would still be a while before they would reach the Guard House, let alone Nurn, at this rate.

"Sir!" shouted Lt. Samnon. "I just had an idea!"

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

"Well, sir, traveling in Mordor is a lot like traveling in the desert or Harondor. Whenever I was stationed there we would travel at night to take advantage of the coolness. Here, the cover of darkness will hopefully help us slip past the orcs."

"Excellent idea, Lt.! Does everyone else agree?"

"Aye."

"No problem."

"It is a wise idea."

"Then it's settled. We'll rest tomorrow and move out tomorrow night!"

It was difficult to get anything done during the day. Having already rested the previous night, none of them wanted to rest now. Sitting around in what little cover they could find from the orcs was leaving them all antsy. Mermacil and Hannish were able to burn a little energy by sparring with each other. Both of them wielded a longsword, but Mermacil was out of practice. More accurately, he was never in practice to begin with.

Mermacil had been much to young when the War was fought to participate, and when he moved out to Minas Ithil he had help what was largely considered a desk job. It was only recently that he had been assigned to field jobs. He did well at them, but he was unused to having to defend himself.

According to Hannish, he was pretty good for a man of over fifty who had only been wielding weapons for around a tenth of his life. However, most of the threats that he would encounter in Mordor were a good sight beyond that. Still, he was improving, and that's what mattered.

"All right," he finally said. "Let's stop. I don't want to be too tired for tonight." He sheathed his sword. Hannish did the same.

"Fair enough, but we will practice again in the nearby future." Hannish grinned wickedly.

Meanwhile, Elarë was being taught the basics of the Nurnian script by Kith'tar.

"It shouldn't be too hard to learn," he said in his usual soft voice. "Centuries of cultural domination by Gondor, Sauron, and Harad have left it so that the script looks a good deal like ours, but with a few differences here or there. This is their "a", for example."

Elarë nodded. "I think I get it. So, "b" would look like…this." She gave a dramatic flourish and wrote on her paper.

"Excellently done, Elarë. You were definitely the right pick for this assignment."

Elarë beamed; glad to have Kith'tar's respect.

Lt. Samnon was doing his best to not be bored, but there wasn't much for him to do. He had already checked his equipment to make sure that it was all in working order, twice. He was currently writing a letter to his girlfriend, though with knew when he would have a chance to send it to her. He also updated a daily log that he kept with him at all times.

Finally, the sun sank below the horizon and they were ready to move out. They were able to travel much faster than they had been before, for the majority of the orcs were sleeping, and they didn't stand out enough against the night for the few sentries to notice them.

"Why do you think they have so few sentries posted?" Elarë inquired.

It was Lt. Samnon who replied first. "They aren't afraid. We certainly weren't expecting this army; we don't even know where it came from. As far as they know, we still have no idea they are here. And, even if we did, what kind of force could we send at them that they wouldn't know about first that would actually hurt them?"

They all realized the truth of his statement and to each of them came the same thought. _If we can't defeat them here, how can we hope to at all?_

* * *

><p>Parthekos kept on moving, trying to go as quickly as possible. He dared not disappoint the Yasugi. The Orocarni Mountains were so massive that they were visible when one was but a few miles past the city wall of Hyarragash. However, Parthekos knew that he still had a long way to go. He was used to long waits, although in another sense.<p>

Ranks in the Azaon churched worked so that there were two ways of being promoted. The first was having someone at least two ranks above you determine that you were worthy of becoming closer to truly serving Azao. When this happened, a new place in the ranks was opened for the promoted member. The other way was if the person above you died. If that happened, the person directly below them would take their spot.

There were many ranks in the Azaon church. There were 13 cardinal ranks, each with a different name. Within these cardinal ranks were 13 ordinal ranks, each with the same name. For example, someone with the cardinal rank of Ossaon and ordinal rank of Issalar would have the rank of Ossaon-Issalar. Yasugi was the most powerful rank; there was only one person with the cardinal rank of Yasugi.

The ranks, in order from least to greatest, are as follows: Issalar, Julurrt, Kirrgan, Laosson, Matrruva, Nyatti, Ossaon, Pirraga, Russagi, Sesisse, Talak, Ugarus, and Yasugi. Parthekos was an Ossaon-Kirrgan, which was a relatively high rank in the church.

Rising high in the ranks of the church was not nearly as hard as many believed it to be. All that was required was that the priests stick to their rhythms, and if they were doing well a superior priest would promote them. There were always new recruits, so there were never any vacancies (although it was beginning to get difficult to house everyone). The priests of Azao naturally believed in styling their lives after the Sun. Therefore, because the Sun kept to a specific rhythm throughout the day, the priests of Azao did so as well. However, because the Sun altered this rhythm day by day, the priests did so as well.

Parthekos excelled as a priest because he quickly hit on what the right amount of change was. Some priests saw the Sun as a chaotic, flaming, incinerating orb and reflected this in their routines, changing them wildly from day to day. This sect was called the "Daizumi-Jao", which translates roughly to "Flaming Robes".

Other priests saw the Sun's constant rise and fall as the ultimate symbol of order and consistency, and kept the core of their routines the same, changing them only on the outside. These priests named themselves the "Kwoharr-Jao", which translates to "Steady Robes".

The last major sect diverged a little further from orthodox teaching. The other two sects derive their principles from a set of teachings commonly called the Gwaharradh. However, the last group did not looked directly at the Sun balanced out the Moon. They are called by many names, but the most frequent is "Kathalar-Jao", which means "Shadow Robes". These priests usually act chaotic for some period of time, then orderly for another. However, they occasionally mix things up by not varying in routine whatsoever.

Parthekos did well because he did not follow a particular sect. Unlike the Daizumi-Jao, he did not vary wildly. However, he also changed the core of his routine, unlike the Kwoharr-Jao, and he always kept to this pattern. The Yasugi valued this approach, and promoted him often.

Parthekos felt truly at home with the Azaon priests. He enjoyed the structure of their life, the comradeship he had with the other priests, the sense of growth and improvement he felt with each promotion. Most importantly, however, he could feel Azao, and he wanted nothing more than to please him and bring him greatness.

Parthekos wiped some of the sweat from his shaved scalp. Although the priests were not required to shave their heads, many did. The reasons for this practice were lost in the depths of time, for this was a practice that was millennia old.

In each village he passed through, Parthekos noticed how eager everyone was to help him. This puzzled him. At first it made sense, since it was logical that the villages close to Hyarragash would respect the much-loved priests of Azao. However, several weeks away from Hyarragash, it was strange that they would be so helpful to him.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. He remembered one of his friends talking about something like this before he left.

"_Often, when people agree to help you, they aren't doing out of love or devotion. They are doing it out of fear."_

Parthekos still wasn't quite sure why they would fear him, though. He thought on the topic some more, until he recalled a lecture from his early days as a priest.

"_Amongst the common folk, much of what they "know" is little more than superstition and folk lore. For example, many of them believe that the routines that we practice allow us to harness the power of the Sun. We cannot do this, of course, but there are other gods who grant a similar power to their followers, so it makes sense that this belief would persist. Also, many priests find it makes things easier to encourage this belief."_

_Well, that explains things_, thought Parthekos. _I suppose it is fairly handy_. Parthekos brought his thoughts back to his reason for leaving and stepped up the pace. He wanted to reach the mountains soon. His mind suddenly drifted, drifted over to the memory that he was trying so hard to forget. He struggled in vain to ignore his persistent want to revisit that memory, but failed. Dropping to the ground, he experienced a sudden flashback.

_Parthekos is standing outside of the Yasugi's quarters. He has been summoned there for a special mission. A very special mission. The Yasugi is busy when he arrives, but this doesn't bother Parthekos. He knows that the Yasugi's job is nothing but constant work, day and night. He can be patient for a several minutes._

_He can't help but over here the conversation going on inside, however. He may be patient, but that doesn't mean that he is deaf. Strangely, neither the Yasugi nor his visitor seem to be trying to bring down their voices. Perhaps they are unaware that the Yasugi had asked him to arrive at this time._

_The Yasugi is talking. "Is everything in place for the Solstice?"_

"_Yes, Lord," says another voice, this one much deeper._

"_Good. The soldiers are in place?"_

"_Not quite yet, but they will be soon."_

_The Yasugi's voice hardens. "They had better be. When the attack happens, I do not want any of the priests living."_

_Parthekos frowns in shock, and only barely keeps himself from gasping aloud. Does the Yasugi plan on attacking another temple?_

_The other voice speaks up again. "Of course, My Lord. There must be no witnesses, or else the Xaniq's plan shall be ruined."_

_Xaniq? thinks Parthekos. That is the name of the leader of the priests of Latao. Before he can think on this any further, the Yasugi speaks again. "Good. We shall finally be rid of Azao's wretched servants forever"._

With an effort, Parthekos ended the flashback. He wiped tears he hadn't even realized he was sheding from his eyes. He had tried to use his training to keep it from his conscious mind, but it was no good. He had to face it; the Yasugi was a traitor. He had been working for Latao, the Moon God, this whole time.

In truth, the Yasugi's task for him had simply been to go to a village but a week from Hyarragash and convert there. However, Parthekos had been so good at hiding that memory that he managed to convince himself that he had been sent to the Orocarni Mountains. What he was really doing was escaping. However, since it looked like the priests of Azao were to soon be gone, he might as well begin to recruit some new ones.

* * *

><p>The bad weather, thankfully, seemed willing to content itself with a light drizzle and ominous clouds to the South. The military stood nearby. Although the soldiers appeared relaxed, Liriel knew that they were ready to destroy any part of The Swarm at a moment's notice. Pazij stood among them, talking with their commander. They had over ten thousand men with them at the moment. Emperor Zushwah, Emperor of the Barish Empire, was willing to do anything to halt the advance of The Swarm, including send an entire regiment of soldiers on what could be a false lead.<p>

Meanwhile, under Guband's careful leadership the excavators were beginning to dig on top of the patch of soil that Liriel had discovered. With any luck, they would be digging into one of the Swazverai and inside of that temple they would discover the cause of The Swarm.

Suddenly, Guband was at her side. "We may have a slight problem that requires your attention."

"What is it?" Liriel asked worriedly.

"You should probably come see," she said. They both walked over to the hardly begun excavation site. Guband gestured to the bottom of the shallow hole they had dug. There was a glistening metal at the bottom.

Liriel was stunned. "Is that mithril?"

Guband shook her head. "Sadly, no, or we would be the richest people in the history of the world. This is karthal."

Liriel stared at Guband. "What?"

"Think of it as mithril's ugly twin. It's nearly as thick and tough. If you could somehow make armor out of this it would be as unbreakable or scratchable as actual mithril. However, something about the metal makes it ridiculously tough to work with, even for dwarves, and it is far denser."

"So, you're telling me we can't even drill through it."

"Pretty much, unless you fancy spending the next few decades of your life watching a drill break over and over again. We need you, Liri."

Liriel sighed. Normally, even a desperate man wouldn't hire a complete foreigner to work on a task of utmost importance, especially one with limited experience in this task. However, Liriel had a trick up her sleeve.

She hoped down into the hole and pressed her hands against the karthal. She closed her eyes and tried to sense it with her innate talent. She examined the karthal, sensing any weaknesses that would make her task easier. However, she found none. Truly, this was mithril's ugly twin.

She focused all her energy to where her hands met metal; draining her utterly and making her feel exhausted and light-headed. However, she was rewarded by a satisfying cracking noise from the karthal, as it split into thousands of tiny, easily excavated pieces. The excavators all were staring at her in shock as she pulled herself out of the whole and brushed the dirt off her hands. A few tricks indeed.


	9. Chapter 8

_When the Valar made this island, they attempted to make it as physically diverse as possible. All kinds of terrain can be found here. In the center we have the mountain Meneltarma, which is surrounded by many foothills. All around the island, of course, is the beach with its diverse ecology. Throughout the rest of the island, there is a mix between grassland and forest, we a heavy emphasis towards the grasslands. _

_ There is forest in the Andustar; firs and other evergreens in the north, for it is colder in that region save for in Forostar (and there are very few trees there, except for on the moors), and great woods of birch, beech, oak, and elm grew there. In Hyarnustar there were few trees, but in Hyarrostar there were an abundance, and they were of many different species._

_ In the last branch, Orrostar, it was also fairly cold, and there were few forests there. In the center, in Mittalmar most of the land was either the awesome mountain Meneltarma or was covered in grasslands and foothills. Many varieties of exotic trees were grown in Númenor, including lairelossë, malinorë, nessamelda, oiolairë, taniquelassë, vardarianna, and yavannamírë, to name but a few._

_ As for the plains, they are also spread throughout this island. Admittedly, there are not as many grasslands on the branches, save for the moors of Forostar and the barrens of Orrostar. However, in Mittalmar is one of Númenor's greatest regions and plains, called Emerië._

_Once, many centuries ago, Númenor had more forests than grasslands. This was in the time of the ship-kings, when our timber was a vital resource and great care was made that it would be a long-lasting one. However, with a focus on building metal ships, and with our large timber economy in Endor, the forests are less protected._

_Speaking of the metal ships, Ar-Pharazôn's penchant for metal is also affecting the terrain of the island. More and more of our land is being turned into vast industrialized mines, and many of our slaves in Mordor feel the unjust crack of the whip when they slow down in their harvesting of various metals. I wish I could blame the attraction to iron on Sauron (who does seem, to appreciate it), but Ar-Pharazôn has always preferred iron to other, more traditional, materials._

_Interestingly enough, despite the strange attraction that Ar-Pharazôn has towards metals, he has never made any move to ally with any of the dwarves. I could perhaps understand his reluctance to ally with the Longbeards, who the Elves have allied with in the past (over 1500 years ago, admittedly), but there are more clans than just them. The dwarves have vast amounts of gold, silver, platinum, aluminum, steel, and (best of all) mithril. I would say that almost anything is worth the price of being able to trade with the dwarves for mithril. For some reason, no other race besides the dwarves is able to work with the metal._

_This is one of the few areas where Sauron and I agree. Although Sauron tends to think that it would be better to conquer the dwarves and steal their labor, whereas I favor slightly less violent methods, we both agree that mithril is a valuable resource. I am especially confused because, as far as I can tell he has no reason to dislike the dwarves._

_Through an old friend of mine, I have met this very interesting young woman named Eluni. She has showed an obvious interest in my job. She also seems very interested in the journals I keep, perhaps because the journals are a portal back to a time that she no doubt considers ancient history. She seems to spend more time with me than with her friends and family, a fact which no doubt worries her parents, Todapher and Azgartârak._

_However, I think I will mention training her as a court scribe (and possibly as an assistant Steward) to her. Rather than seeing the offer of apprenticeship as the sentence of isolation that most see it as, I think she would see it as a gift. I feel confident that she will one day make a great Steward._

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>It took the better part of the day of Telimperion and Immortal to get from their camp at the other side of the city to the main gates. However, considering the weeks of travel that the path had saved them, Telimperion considered it an acceptable price to pay. While they traveled on the main road, they were surrounded by a mob of others heading into Minas Tirith. The reasons that people had for visiting Minas Tirith were as varied as the people themselves.<p>

Some people, like Telimperion and Immortal, were there to try and see the King or some other important official and petition him for some favor or another. Others were escaping their previous lives and attempting to start new lives amidst the vast sea of options that existed in the city. Others were envoys from other countries or other regions of the Reunited Kingdom, here to gain diplomatic or economic with Minas Tirith.

The throng of people was the main delay in their advancement to the main gate. While the people moved fast when there was space, the slow pace of the guards checking people in at the main gate caused them to barely move at all. In time, however, they did make it to the gate.

The woman at the gate was looking very tired, no doubt eager for her shift to end.

"I don't suppose either of you two have some kind of identification in you, do you?" she asked in a despairing tone.

"I do," said Telimperion. "He doesn't, though," she added, pointing to Immortal. She handed over a piece of paper marking her as a citizen of the Reunited Kingdom.

"Seems to be in order," the woman droned. "I'll have to supply the man with one, however. What's your name?"

Before Telimperion could answer for him, Immortal broke his silence and said "Tu-Ankh."

"Age?"

"27," he lied.

"Occupation?"

"Retired soldier, mercenary."

The interview continued on like this for several minutes until the papers were entirely in order. "Don't lose these, m'kay," she said.

Tu-Ankh bowed. "Of course not, my dear." After that, they were in. Telimperion saw that the woman was relieved once she was finished with them and felt happy for her.

Once they were inside the city, they could see its magnificent splendor again. Telimperion felt dazed just by looking around. Everything about it was massive, especially when compared to the Vale where she had spent her entire life. Tu-Ankh grinned, seeing her awe. "It's only a model," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"I said 'it's odd to see you so quiet,'" he said louder. Telimperion gave him a mock punch in the shoulder. Tu-Ankh clutched at his shoulder, willing to play a long.

"What should we do first?" wondered Telimperion.

"We should probably find a place to stay. I'm sure there will be plenty of hotels relatively close to the White Tower built for the specific purpose of housing visiting petitioners. About how much money did you bring?"

Telimperion was having trouble hearing Tu-Ankh over the sound of the bustling crowd. It seemed that they were in some kind of marketplace, for the streets were crowded with stalls and vendors desperate to be eye-catching despite the sheer amount of them. She shuddered, deciding that the city was not a place for her. Too much noise, too many people, too many buildings, not enough space, not enough animals, not enough silence. "What?" she yelled.

Tu-Ankh repeated himself. "I brought around 200 Miriain," she replied. "How many days can we afford to stay, do you think?"

Tu-Ankh ran some quick calculations. "Hmm, well, if we try not to spend much on other things besides food and a place to stay…I reckon we can stay about a month." He paused, seeing something. "Hey, this place looks promising."

The building in question seemed fairly simple as far as architecture went. There wasn't really much that stood out about it. The rooms in it were bigger than most residential rooms, but definitely nowhere near some of the upper-tier rooms in the city. The price was around average, and would definitely allow them to stay for quite a while.

"Well, what's next?"

Tu-Ankh yawned. "Let's get some sleep; the sun has gone down. Tomorrow we can see about getting an audience."

Telimperion was relieved to sleep on a real mattress for the first time in over a week. She slept very well, not waking up until well after dawn. She lay in bed for several minutes before getting up and getting ready for the day. She discovered that Tu-Ankh had already been up for an hour, also preparing. Finally, when both of them were ready, then left and took the long walk up to the White Tower.

Even though she was getting used to it by now, Telimperion was still quite overwhelmed by Minas Tirith. Despite having never been inside, Tu-Ankh seemed to be doing fine. Several reasons jumped to mind right away. He could have easily been in other cities. Perhaps his long life and massive experience had made it easy for him to adapt to foreign areas. Perhaps he was exceptionally good at covering up his discomfort. Regardless of the reason for his comfort, Telimperion was more than happy to let him lead.

They arrived at the White Tower at noon. A helpful guard told them that all petitioners were supposed to go into Outer Courtyard B. They had some trouble finding it, but they did eventually find there way around the massive structure. When they got there, there was quite a line, although not quite as long as what she had expected.

Wherever the line went to, it was not to the King. As though he knew what she was thinking, Tu-Ankh whispered, "it seems as though the line goes to some kind of screening process similar to the gate. We will present our various petitions and they will…judge them I guess."

"Hmmm. I had hoped we would be seeing the King or some court official, not another screen."

"I imagine that the King and his officials are very busy with trying to run a very young and large Kingdom. I'm surprised that King Elessar personally listens to petitions at all, instead of having lesser functionaries handle these things for him."

"Well, whatever the reason, I and many others sure are glad that he does it," she said.

"Oh, believe me, so am I. I'm just surprised, that's all," he quickly replied.

The line, despite its length, moved with haste. Clearly, whoever was manning this post was more efficient that the main gate. That, or this task was faster. Soon enough, they were once more answering someone's questions, someone's prying into their life.

"So, what's your petition?" the man working there asked.

Telimperion had prepared a response to this question ahead of time. "We seek to petition King Elessar for financial aid for the Vale, military aid against the invading Kolfinna and the Keraq'ar. Finally, we seek a cure for the curse that is on this man, Tu-Ankh."

The man seemed unimpressed by Telimperion's litany of misfortunes. "Well, given that the severity level of your various petitions averages out to about 50, and looking at when King Elessar has open times, you will be seeing the King…at noon two weeks from now."

Telimperion gasped. "Two weeks? Do you realize what could happen in that time before we get a chance to act?"

The man had no patience for Telimperion's out burst. "Leave or you will get no audience at all," he growled. "Next!"

Having no choice, Telimperion and Tu-Ankh walked back out of the White Tower. Telimperion vented her rage the whole way. "I can't believe this! Two weeks is far to long! How can you just stand there so passively?"

Tu-Ankh looked Telimperion right in the eye. "Honestly, I'm surprised we wound up with only having to wait two weeks. Just you wait; the time will fly by. Plus, we can explore the city in our free time," Tu-Ankh explained.

"Oh, this just great," Telimperion said sarcastically. Nonetheless, she stopped her complaining and they walked back to their inn in silence.

"Well, now what?" she whined. "We came all this way for nothing it seems."

"I told you, two weeks is like nothing."

"Nothing!" Telimperion roared. "Do you have any idea how many people could be killed by the multitude of threats we face? How many will die from starvation? All while I sit here, helpless-" Telimperion broke off and began sobbing.

Tu-Ankh moved closer to her and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. "Telimperion," he whispered softly. "Look at me." At first she didn't respond but when he gently repeated his request she looked up. "Tele, everything will be absolutely all right. I swear by Ilúvatar that no matter what the cost everything will end up fine for you."

Telimperion looked up with a glimmer of hope. "Do you really mean that?" Tu-Ankh nodded. "Oh, thank you," she sobbed. She embraced him, once more happy.

Tu-Ankh spoke once more. "Now, to answer your question, I think we should go look at the houses of healing. Perhaps they will have a way to end my life."

"Don't be so depressing," Telimperion grinned, knowing full well the irony of her statement. Tu-Ankh couldn't help but laugh and she soon joined in.

* * *

><p>Aulenmir woke up early and tried to rouse Peladin and Sirilfa. "Alright, you two, rise'n'shine! We've got a big day ahead of ourselves."<p>

Sirilfa groaned and turned away from Aulenmir. Peladin, on the other hand, rose groggily and attempted to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "What's going on?" he yawned. Sirilfa kicked him as soon as he did so. "Shush! I wanna sleep."

"You sure 'bout that?" Aulenmir asked. When he got no response he added, "I guess Peladin and I will have fun on our own."

This got Sirilfa's attention. "What are we doing?" she asked, oblivious to the fact that her question was nearly the exact same as her brother's.

"Get up and find out," Aulenmir replied, refusing to directly answer the question. Soon enough, everyone was up and outside of the house. It was far colder than it was the last time Aulenmir had been on an extended trip, so he made sure that everyone was properly dressed. It wasn't even dawn yet, and the children, despite their eagerness, where clearly having trouble keeping their eyes open. However, some walking would soon solve that problem.

"All righty then. Here's the plan for today. Although I can get much of my own supplies from the mountain or, in dire times, from the Ephûl, there are some supplies that neither of them can provide." Aulenmir suddenly stopped talking, reminding himself that the Ephûl were going to be dropping off some food tomorrow. He wouldn't be able to spend the night outside.

"And…" said Sirilfa impatiently.

Aulenmir glared at her. "Mind yer manners," he said crossly. "I'm not your mother, but I can discipline you just the same." He waited for his message to get through, and then continued. "For example, wheat doesn't grow on the mountains, and neither do many fruits and vegetables. Cutlery and other dining implements are generally not naturally occurring either. Rope and clothing are creatable using things growing on the mountains, but it's easier to buy them.

"So, every now and then I head down to the town in the lower altitudes of the mountains. Not many people live in the town except for the permanent traders and lawmen. Everyone else is there to trade or, if they are resting on a climb, to eat. Usually, I am able to bring in some meat to trade for money and then buy stuff with that." Aulenmir gestured to several packs.

"Now, there are a few rules that I must establish for the town. First of all, you are not to leave my side. I need to be able to see you at all times, and I don't want to be districted by continually having to check on you. Second, do not talk to anyone unless I do too, and even then do not talk to him or her first. Third, you can each pick out one special thing that you want. Oh, and fourth you two need to help by carrying one pack each."

Both of the children were very excited to be able to go down. They began to daydream about what they should get in town. Sirilfa was thinking about getting some clay. Peladin wanted to buy a quill, ink, and paper.

The walk down to the town actually didn't take quite as long as Aulenmir had expected. He had thought it would take over two hours but it barely took one. The advantage of this was that there weren't many people in the town yet, but many of the traders had already set up. Aulenmir headed over to one of the ones that he knew well, a man named Yoggorath. Yoggorath waved him over, obviously excited to see him.

"Ay, Aulenmir, long time no see, eh? It's been near a year since you were last in town. What's been keepin' you busy, then?" Yoggorath then looked down at Peladin and Sirilfa. "Oh, I see. You've gotten busy then," he said with a wicked grin.

Aulenmir chuckled. "I think they're a little to old for that to be the answer. These are my nephew and niece, Peladin and Sirilfa. To answer your question, mostly I have been busy writing, though I also spent some time reading too."

Yoggorath laughed heartily. "You are such an intellectual, Aulenmir. I don't think I understand half of what goes on in your mind. I guess that's why I'm a trader and you're a hermit, eh? Now, what've ye got fer me?"

"Just the usually, Yoggorath. Some meat, some herbs with medicinal properties, and a little bread baked by these two over here."

Yoggorath ran some quick calculations in his head. Yoggorath might not be one for intellectual discussions and history, but whatever he said he was still one sharp man. Aulenmir didn't know any other traders who could do math as quick as he could, or who could wring a profit as smoothly as Yoggorath did. Usually, Yoggorath charged Aulenmir fairly, because he that Aulenmir would know when he was being ripped off and would take his business elsewhere. Other naïve customers were not so lucky.

"I can give around 50 Miriain for it."

"Sounds fair enough. Nice doing business with ya, Yoggorath." Aulenmir nodded to the trader.

"The pleasure is mine," Yoggorath grinned.

After talking with Yoggorath, Aulenmir and the children went around getting the supplies they would need. Aulenmir bought some more clothes for the kids and himself from a couple of cloth merchants. He also bought several lengths of rope from a nearby stall. Aulenmir made sure to get plenty of flour and some fruits and vegetables. A diet of entirely meat wasn't the healthiest, after all.

Aulenmir also fulfilled his promise by buying the children the gifts that they had asked for. He kept them in his pack, though, and told them that they could play with their gifts once they got back to the cabin. He still had some money left over, so they treated themselves to some fine food in the tavern.

While inside and waiting for their food, Aulenmir couldn't help but over hear the conversation of several men inside.

"I hear that the attacks are getting worse," said one of them.

"I thought that the government had sent in help," said another.

"Just a rumor. Far as we know, the government doesn't even know about the orcs," said a third one.

The second one spoke again. "How'd them orcs get here anyhow?"

The third spoke again. "You think we know, idjit? Somehow, them Keraq'ar bastards got here and are causin' trouble. I say we do something about it!"

The first one spoke up. "Leave it to the Ephûl," he said in a deep voice. "They have numbers and experience. All we have is-"

"Don't say it!" the second one hissed.

"Hey, did you two catch the game last night?" the third asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

Aulenmir, seeing that his food had been served, turned his attention away from the men. _Orcs in the Ered Nimrais? It can't be! _Aulenmir was also concerned by the mention of the Ephûl. _Could that be the favor they want?_ He wondered.

Thankfully, Peladin and Sirilfa chose that moment to get into an argument and Aulenmir's attention was moved away from the three men and into settling their dispute. Thankfully, he got them to calm down without drawing any attention. Peladin and Sirilfa had been extraordinarily well behaved throughout the day (the argument not included), and things had been going very well. The little trip had proven to be a success.

Aulenmir still had a few coins left, but he didn't need anything else. Glad that everything had gone well, they returned back to the cabin. The walk back seemed to take a lot longer. In fact, they didn't get back until after dusk. By this point, they were so tired that everyone just had a quick dinner and then went to sleep. There was to be no story time tonight.

* * *

><p>The Steward, for whatever reason, had decided not to live in the government building that most of the other government workers lived in. In fact, the only ones who didn't live there were either border guards or rangers. This made communicating with him difficult, which is probably what Arvegil wanted. Like Altariel had said earlier, he really wasn't the man for the job. He only wanted the job for its prestige, not for the actual power the job had. Altariel would soon get him in the right frame of mind, though.<p>

Arvegil's manor was isolating in more ways than just physically. The place was also incredibly grand looking, to the point where it was intimidating. It also served to emphasize the class difference between him and his servants. Altariel had been forced to come here two times before and had hated it both times. She hoped that this would be the last time that she had to do this.

She knocked on the door three times in rapid succession. She waited for a few minutes before she knocked again, this time much harder. She wasn't sure how long it would be before she felt like kicking down the door. However, shortly afterwards a servant opened the door. Altariel smiled, even though she wasn't feeling very happy in general. "I heard that Steward Arvegil wished to speak with me."

The servant bowed. "Yes, Lady Altariel. Please, right this way." The servant led her up several flights of stairs and through a series of hallways before they finally reached a very ornately styled door. The servant knocked politely.

"Enter," a bored voice called out.

Altariel stepped in and gave a low bow. "I had heard you stopped by my office to speak with me, My Lord."

"Yes. I have some information on the tensions that I believe would be of great interest to you. I need everything up here to be peaceful before King Elessar makes his journey up here, understand?"

"Of course, My Lord."

"Good. The essential cause of our problem is this: humans are being slaughtered in their homes, and only humans. No hobbits are slaughtered. What's more, our killer seems to slaughter all humans indiscriminately, which most likely rules out the Dunlendings and entirely rules out the rangers."

Arvegil certainly was much better at getting to the point than Sam was. However, his reply raised an important question. "Why have I not heard of these murders yet?"

Arvegil shrugged. "We've been trying to keep things quiet, but it's unlikely that no one knows. You probably weren't looking hard enough, or you need no informants."

Arvegil's condescending words rekindled Altariel's rage. "Thank you, My Lord," she said with clenched teeth. "I have a message to deliver to you, by the way." She pulled a letter from her pocket that was addressed to Arvegil and began to read aloud.

_To whomever is the Steward of the North at this time,_

_The bearer of this letter is my personal envoy and carries with her my full power and responsibility as an Inquisitor of the Reunited Kingdom. If she suspects you of failing to properly carry out your duties, she has the full power to remove you at once. Any attempts to hinder her will serve you not._

_Elessar, King of the Reunited Kingdom, King of Gondor, Lord of Minas Tirith, and heir Isildur_

Upon hearing the contents of the letter, Arvegil went pale. He saw that it contained Elessar's official seal, and knew that it was real.

"Understand?" Altariel said simply. Arvegil nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Good," she said smugly, and walked out on Arvegil. She was going to solve this mystery; she would figure out who was killing hobbits and men, and she would do without Arvegil's interference.

* * *

><p>Mermacil and the others made their way much faster in the dark, but still not as fast as he would have liked. Several times, they were forced to hide from approaching orc patrols and then continue on their way. Luckily, now that it was winter the nights were slightly longer, so they had more time to travel. They spent the majority of their nights traveling, only pausing every now and then to eat and use the bathroom. They would also usually pause roughly an hour before down to practice some of the skills they were working on earlier. Mermacil was becoming almost competent with the longsword.<p>

They were walking through a small dip in the ground when Mermacil called for a brief rest break while he took a look at his map. "All right, it looks like we are only a few days away from the Guard House. Soon, we should have an answer to why this massive army is here."

"Thank Eru!" said Elarë. "I swear if we have to walk much further my feet will fall off."

"Do not worry," Kith'tar said. "We will be fine."

"Does anyone smell that?" asked Lt. Samnon. Kith'tar sniffed the air.

"Fascinating, now that you mention it-" Kith'tar suddenly dove at Elarë, knocking her down. Elarë was about to protest this treatment when she noticed that an arrow had buried itself in the sand near where she had been standing.

"Orcs!" shouted Hannish.

Sure enough, standing at the top of the dip where several orcs. Most of them were armed with bows, though some were armed with swords. Seeing that they had been spotted, they readied themselves for battle.

Mermacil began shouting orders. "I count ten of them! Kith'tar, Lt., and Hannish, you go after them! Elarë and I will go the other direction and look for other groups."

Almost before he had finished speaking, the three rushed off to perform the task expected of them. Each of those three was a competent warrior in their own right. Hannish was older than the rest of them; he had Númenorean blood that kept young. This meant that he had been able to fight in the War of the Ring and was still in service now. He had fought his first fight will defending Minas Tirith and had later gone on to fight outside the Black Gates.

In the forty-plus years since then, Hannish had done his best to make the Reunited Kingdom secure from all threats. He had trained extensively, to the point that he surpassed most of his teachers. In another world, perhaps, Hannish would have been regarded as a master swordsman. Here, he was just a good soldier.

He targeted three orcs and informed the others who he had picked. The orcs all went at him at the same time, almost feeling sorry for the tark who had dared to fight them. They never stood a chance. Wielding the heavy weapon faster than most would have thought possible, Hannish quickly swung it at the face of the orc on his left. Since the orcs were scouts, they were only wearing light armor, and the orc failed to block the thrust.

Spinning around the attack the other two, he tried the same tactic on the next one, but this one was prepared. He dodged the thrust and then counterattacked with a thrust of his own. Hannish quickly brought his blade back down to parry, then spun his blade up, neatly disarming the orc. He quickly finished the orc off.

The last orc didn't even wait for him to face him before swinging at him. Hannish brought his blade up to parry, but the orc was strong. He was disarmed, but before the orc could take advantage of this fact, Hannish dropped to the ground and swung his legs at the orc's, knocking him down. He quickly retrieved his sword, and then blocked several attacks by the orc before spotting a weakness in his defense and finishing him off.

Lt. Samnon had been a ranger in the Gondorian army. He had joined after the war, so he never saw action on the scale that Hannish had, but he had still been in many fights, and he had also been trained by some of the best. In addition, he had physical attributes that even the toughest wrestler would rival. He wielded two short swords, and he wielded them quickly. Often, fights he started were over almost before they had begun. When he selected his three orcs, he charged at them.

Almost instantly, utilizing one of his many ranger skills, he saw where their defenses were weak and focused on them. Dodging, ducking, parrying, and spinning, he nimbly avoided the orcs blows. Then, with several quick thrusts, he killed them.

Lastly, Kith'tar knew how to fight as well. Although he had not been part of the military, he had grown up in a region were fighting was critical to survival. While Hannish and Lt. Samnon might have adopted fighting, Kith'tar was born to it. Even for one of his people. Kith'tar had a natural knack for fighting. He specialized in unarmed combat. However, for the purposes of fighting armed opponents he also trained himself in the ways of the quarterstaff.

He approached the remaining orcs, quarterstaff spinning rapidly. Try as they might, the orcs couldn't penetrate his defense. One of the orcs was wearing a red sash. Kith'tar, deducing that he was the leader of this band, went for him first. The orc had not picked to lead this expedition for no reason, however. His reflexes were excellent and he dodged Kith'tar's blow. He made a hand gesture and he and the other orcs began to retreat.

Mermacil saw this and called out to the three warriors. "No, do not let them retreat!" Hannish and Lt. Samnon, having already killed their orcs, went after the remaining four. Hannish neatly disarmed the closest one and then killed him, while Lt. Samnon caught up to the next two and swiftly killed them. However, the orc with the red sash already had a good lead, and they knew they would never catch up to them.

When the group reunited, the fighters were all looking very sad. "I'm sorry we let one get away, Mermacil." Hannish said sadly.

"Hopefully, it won't matter," Mermacil said, trying to remain positive. "We are already over a week ahead of the main group. Even if that orc runs all the way back, it will still take him at least three days to reach them, and it will take them much longer to get back here. We can reach the Guard House by then."

Lt. Samnon sighed. "I hope you are right. We will have to move much faster now. Let's go!" With that, they set off, walking nearly twice as fast.

* * *

><p>Parthekos stopped walking once he saw the marker. The word that was inscribed on it was faded, but he was able to make it out. It said, in the language of the orcs who lived in this land "Rhoneregurgigan", which meant "the land of the orcs of the Orocarnis". Parthekos took this as a sign that he was getting closer. He didn't see any orcs in the immediate area, but he knew that a vast amount of them had moved here shortly after the War had ended.<p>

They had interacted peacefully with all other surrounding groups. The elves were surprisingly friendly with them; going so far as to help them settle in to their new home and helping to protect them from the vengeful hands of the nations that Sauron had hurt most. This was certainly friendlier than the elves relationship with Hyarragash. To be fair, the Kirranmar had driven the elves out of the land that would become Hyarragash, and many of the elves that had survived that war were still alive and kicking.

Their peaceful stance had endeared them toward Hyarragash and the priests of Azao. Most of the other nations in the eastern regions of Middle-earth were either allies of the Kirranmar or blood enemies. This, coupled with the fact that their old religion had been toppled around forty years ago, left them good targets for the Azaon priests.

Parthekos continued forward, now officially in the land of the orcs. The orcs tended to be fairly territorial; they had been through a lot and were not keen to lose much more. He was fairly sure that a group from one of the _nosloni_, or clans, would soon approach him. Sure enough, a cloud of dust kicked up by the orcs running was soon visible not too far off.

The orcs were carrying spears and were wearing armor. One of them, a woman by the looks of it, shouted at him in their language. "_Sit down and put your hands were we can see them!_" she barked.

Parthekos, having thoughtfully studied what was known of the orcs before he left, understood their language. However, he decided that this was an advantage he didn't want to squander, and faked ignorance. "Please, I do not understand," he cried.

The orc glared at him, then repeated her command. "Sit down and put your hands were we can see them!"

Not wanting to risk the obviously painful spears, Parthekos immediately complied. "_Search him_," the orc commanded. Parthekos had been traveling light, bringing with him only a single sack of food and water, and his priestly robes. He hadn't brought with him any weapons, for there were few who would dare attack a priest, and what little else he needed would be provided by the land or its people. Or, with a little luck, the orcs.

Seeing that he was clean, the orc turned and spoke to him. "I am Fulazuntê. I lead these _furgezjti_, or "hunters", as you tarki would call them. Identify yourself and state your purpose here."

Parthekos took a deep breath to calm him, and then spoke. "I am Parthekos, priest of Azao. I am here to bring the religion of the sun to the _urgi_."

Fulazuntê narrowed her eyes, thinking. Suddenly, she spoke. "We will take you to our gohil. She will decide what shall be done with you." Parthekos nodded to show that he assented, and then allowed himself to be led away. The orcs were all silent as they brought him to their camp, which turned out to be more than two miles away.

The moved him quickly through the camp, refusing to allow him to have any interaction at all with the other orcs. Soon, they were outside of the leader's tent. Inside was an old, matronly looking orc. She was eating some lunch when they entered, but stopped to chew out Fulazuntê. "_Why have you brought this man to my tent_."

Fulazuntê kept calm. "_He is the man we spotted entering our lands. I captured him, and him claimed to be a priest. We seek your judgment_."

The orc waved her hand. "_I care not. Make him undergo the trial of trust, if you must. Take him out of my sight_."

Fulazuntê hauled him to a different tent, this one with guards set around it. She spoke to him in Kirran. "This is your new home. Tomorrow, you will undergo a trial to see if you can be trusted. If you succeed, we will allow you to stay and preach your god. If not…" Fulazuntê paused and gave an evil grin. "If not, we execute you." She turned around and walked out of the tent, leaving Parthekos alone with his fears.

* * *

><p>Liriel continued to help with the excavation efforts. As it turned out, there was more karthal than just that piece. Unfortunately, Liriel's powers drained a lot of energy from her, so they were of limited used. Guband, unfortunately, ruled out most of her other suggestions.<p>

"Perhaps we could get a drill of mithril?" she wondered.

"I know that the Barish Empire is willing to spend a lot on this project, but if we could buy a drill of mithril we might as well just buy Minas Tirith and have the Reunited Kingdom end The Swarm for us."

"Fine then. What if we found someone else like me?"

"Do you know how long it took us to find _you_? Try again."

Liriel began to get desperate. "We could try and explode it."

Guband snorted. "I wish. As it is, we'll hurt ourselves more than the rock."

Liriel slammed her fist on the table in frustration. "I just wish there was some way around this damn rock."

Pazij spoke up from the corner of the tent. "If it makes you feel better, it's a pretty good sign that we are own the right track."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Mithril and karthal are both very rare rocks. Mithril, while a very useful rock, wouldn't be nearly as valuable if more of it was around. Karthal is somewhat more plentiful, but not to the point that we should be finding entire deposits so far away from the Congatra."

"So, you think this is caused by whatever is causing The Swarm?"

"I think it's a fair assumption, that's all," Pazij replied.

Suddenly, from outside the tent, there came a series of shouts. "I think they want you again," said Guband.

"Guess so," Liriel muttered. Outside, she came to a hole that was nearly twenty feet deep. She was honestly surprised that hadn't reached the Swazverai yet. The excavators lowered her in and she went to work. This new layer was much deeper, and she wasn't sure she had it in her. However, she was finally able to see a good place to focus her energies and shattered the rock.

This time, instead of crumbling, the rock began to fall. Liriel felt a feeling of relief, knowing that they must have finally broken through. This feeling was quickly replaced by a feeling of panic. The rocks suddenly stopped falling out from underneath her.

She was in a large tunnel, obviously manmade based on the smoothness of the walls. The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever in both directions, although that was probably just because her only illumination was the light from above. Of course, it was near night, so that wasn't much. The cave smelled rotten, as though filled with molds and fungi. However, underneath that physical sense of rottenness, she felt a more spiritual rottenness, as though something was trying to destroy her spirit.

"Please, get me out!" she cried. She heard noises in the tunnel, and began to weep. Soon enough, a rope was lowered and she was pulled back out. As soon as she was out, she stopped weeping, feeling foolish for having done so.

Guband and Pazij rushed over to her. "What's that matter?" asked Guband.

Liriel shuddered. "There's something down there," she replied shakily. "There's something terrible and evil and nasty and-" She couldn't continue. Guband and Pazij got the gist of what she was trying to say anyways.

Pazij grimaced. "Looks like we're going to need some backup," she said.


	10. Chapter 9

_According to Elves, there isn't really any such thing as magic. Everything that we would describe as magic is just people able to exert more control over this world than others. "The Ainur aren't magical!" they say. "They're just able to exert control over most of the world." Similarly, the Elves have amazing control over nature and their own bodies, explaining why they heal rapidly and rarely ever get sick. Men have the magical talent of being able to avoid the snares of the Music, and escape this world forever. According to the Elves, anyways._

_ Most humans define all these things as magic, largely because they don't have anything to compare it to. The Elves are blessed with their own obvious power and are able to define it better than we can. For most, magic is another thing to be jealous of. _

_ However, there are anomalies that defy this simple system. Most of them are easy to explain. Often, powers are granted by a special artifact, like a sword, ring, or gem. In fact, it is frequently claimed that those who possessed a Silmaril had increased power and ability. This is why Morgoth was near undefeatable, despite having given much of his power to his many servants._

_ Other times, special powers are granted by an auspicious day or location. Certain locations are said to make people who go to them blessed, such as magic springs, or (as some have hypothesized) Valinor. Certain days, such as the solstices or holidays, are also said to boost the power of people. Sometimes, major phenomena, such as massive storms, comets, volcanoes, and earthquakes can grant people powers. One final source of power, which has yet to be confirmed, is then gods. Some followers of various gods claim that they grant them magic._

_ However, the truly special are those who have inborn talents. These people are exceedingly rare, and are often very difficult to find. Their powers can range from minor, such as having self-healing like an elf, to major, such as being able to warp the world around oneself. Some of these people may have these powers because they are descended from Elves, but for the others, we can only speculate._

_ I have only met a few people with these kinds of abilities. One possessed the amusing ability to act as a lodestone for a few seconds at a time. Although his ability had few uses, Ar-Gimilzôr was fascinated by it and wanted to learn more. He spent the rest of his life searching for more talented individuals, but never found any. When Tar-Palantir was King, I told him of Ar-Gimilzôr's quest. He never pronounced interest in it, but when he later discovered one such individual working in the palace, he had him brought to him. _

_ The person was an elderly man who had somehow escaped Ar-Gimilzôr's vigilant searching. We soon discovered how when he revealed his ability to fade into the background of things so that he could almost not be seen, and people seemed to not notice his absence. Tar-Palantir, amazed, gave the man a raise and sent him on his way. Not surprisingly, I never saw him again._

_ The last magical person I saw was shortly before Tar-Palantir died. Although he, much like his ancestors, was willing to die readily and peacefully, then was a large element of the court that wanted him to live as long as possible. They hired a woman who claimed to be a simple healer. However, I soon realized that she was in fact a necromancer, and was preparing to bind Tar-Palantir's soul to a healthier body so that he would live much longer. With a little help from my friends, I stopped the necromancer and saved Tar-Palantir. This element in the court was soon displaced by Ar-Pharazôn, who was at first disgusted by magic._

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>Aulenmir decided to let Peladin and Sirilfa relax today as a reward for their good behavior in the town. They had some nice new toys and he was going to give them some time to play with them. He only wished that he had had the coin to but himself something shiny in the town, but he didn't and he couldn't think of anything that he really needed anyways.<p>

Aulenmir did all the chores by himself, and although they certainly ran smoother with just him, they weren't nearly as fun or as fast without the kids. With all the food that he had bought, he didn't need to hunt much, and the snares held plenty of food already. Aulenmir briefly took down the snares. It was good to give the forest some breathing time every now and then.

When he was finished, he helped out Peladin and Sirilfa. Sirilfa was fairly independent, and Aulenmir wasn't sure his skills as a potter were good enough to help her anyways. She seemed to have a natural talent when it came to clay. The clay seemed to change shape according to her will, not to her hands.

Peladin's task, on the other hand, relied almost entirely on Aulenmir's aid. He had finally decided to make good on his earlier promise and teach Peladin how to write in Quenya, as well as some of the words. Peladin was fascinated by the skill required to accurately write one of the letters, and dedicated most of his time to practicing this. However, he also memorized a few words and their meanings.

At last, the sun had set and dinner had been eaten. "All right," roared Aulenmir. "Who's ready for story time!?"

"I am! I am!" screamed Sirilfa.

"Good. Let me just figure out where we last left off."

"Aldarion and Erendis were about to get married," Peladin answered helpfully

"That seems about right. Here we go!"

* * *

><p>Everyone in Númenor was delighted by the news of Aldarion's betrothal. Everyone, that is, except for the Guild of Venturers that had been set up by Aldarion himself. Outwardly, they partied and feasted with everyone else, but inwardly they were displeased with their Prince. It had fifteen years now that Aldarion had spent wooing Erendis, fifteen years since he had last departed Númenor.<p>

Now, the Guild still went on adventures, for they had many captains that had been trained by Aldarion himself (though none could surpass him in skill). However, Aldarion brought a certain prestige and power with him that no one else in the Guild could, for no nobles of Númenor wished to have a part in it. Without Aldarion, they made few voyages, and what voyages they did make were not exploratory, but rather they often went simply to Gil-galad's lands. Although they were welcomed there, it hardly made for epic stories that the mariners wished to part of.

In addition, following many years of having neglected the forests, good timber was becoming hard to get, and as a result they Guild suffered. They pleaded with Aldarion to at least return to this duty, for it was part of his duty as Master of Forests. At last, Aldarion acquiesced. At first Erendis would accompany him, but she grew saddened at this sight of her beloved trees being felled, and after a few times she visited him in the forests no more.

In Númenor, the time between betrothal and marriage was often long, sometimes lasting up to three years. However, it was seen as rude and uncustomary to go beyond that. And so, after three years of waiting, the people of Númenor were ready for the wedding to finally happen. In the spring of this year, Aldarion rode out to Erendis's house in Beregar, where Erendis was waiting for him.

Along his way, he glanced out over the sea, seeing that there was a wonderful west wind blowing, beloved by the mariners of Númenor, who only sailed west. The sea-longing struck Aldarion hard then, for it had been many long years since he had sailed. However, he gained mastery over himself and hurried on to Beregar, reaching it before the evening.

Although Erendis was glad to see him, she was somewhat surprised that Aldarion did not say anything about their upcoming wedding. She also noticed that Aldarion was often silent and brooding while others were festive and gay. When she confronted him about this, she noticed that his eyes were cold, as though blind to her once more, and she saw in them a fierce hunger that she had not seen in many years, though she new it well.

Erendis, however, said nothing, as did Aldarion. When they rode back to Armenelos and were further away from the sea, he seemed to recover, and became happy once more. However, he still struggled within himself.

As the year passed, Aldarion refused to talk of either marriage or the sea, but he was often working in Rómenna with the Guild, who were quite happy to have him back. Displeased with the delay, Tar-Meneldur summoned Aldarion to his chambers to counsel him. However, they had long made peace with each other, and their relationship was strong, not strained as it had been a few decades ago. Tar-Meneldur professed his desire to have a daughter-in-law (and grandchildren, of course), and was curious that Aldarion would delay marrying so an intelligent, beautiful, and strong woman.

For a long while, Aldarion was silent, brooding still over the sea. Then, he simply said, "It came over me again, father. I have been away for a long eighteen years, and I do not know for how much longer I can remain away. Already, staying on the ground hurts me, physically and mentally."

Meneldur looked at his son with pity, but not with understanding. Although Meneldur tolerated his son's love for the sea, he had never really grasped why he loved it so much. He could not understand the love that was tearing his son's heart in two. "You cannot have two wives, my son, for not only does Númenorean law forbid it, but so does common morality. You are Erendis's man, not the sea's."

Aldarion was hurt by these words, and rather than making him choose Erendis, they only further deepened the discord within him. For, although Meneldur knew this not, his counsel echoed the argument that Erendis had given Aldarion in Emerië. And Aldarion, not entirely unreasonably, reached the conclusion that Meneldur and Erendis had been meeting behind his back. And he stubbornly refused to go down the path they urged him on.

"Smiths may make swords, gardeners may grow, and kings may lead. Why then, can mariners not sail and still be married," Aldarion said angrily.

"If smiths and gardeners were to tend to their work for over five years without ever returning to their wives, then they too would have few wives. The life of a mariner's wife is harsh, for she may not see her husband for many years. You have no need to be a mariner, but there is a great need for you to father a child," Meneldur replied sternly.

"Yet, Man must do more than just survive. He has other needs than perpetuating his line. I have many years yet before I must turn to thoughts of children."

"You may, but Erendis has not the same luxury as you," Meneldur pointed out.

"She waited for over a decade for my return before. I ask barely a fraction of that time."

"When that happened, the two of you were not yet betrothed, but now you are chained together. I imagine that when she waited then, it was not because she awaited your return, but because she was afraid to bind herself to you in case this very thing happened. And now that you have slain that fear, you are bound to her."

Aldarion was truly angry now, and shouted, "I will speak with my love myself then, and not quarrel with her by proxy!" He then left and spoke with Erendis herself of his desire to sail upon the great seas once more.

He looked upon her and saw that she had tears in her eyes. In a quiet voice, she said, "I thought you had come to me to speak about finally marrying."

Aldarion came over to her, comforting her. He promised that the moment he returned they would be married. However, seeing the fear and grief upon her face he changed his stance. He said that they would marry before the year was over, and then they would build the greatest ship yet seen. A house fit for a Queen, but upon the water. And he promised that he would show her the many grand forests of the world, the forests were the Eldar hunt, were the Ents sing. Forests that have been untouched by any but Oromë.

But Erendis still wept. "No, my love. I am glad that such forests are out there and exist, but I have no desire to ever see them. The woods of Númenor (and you) alone hold my heart. If I were to sail off with you, I fear that I wouldn't survive. Out of sight of my beloved land, I would wither away and die. The Sea hates me, and would not suffer my presence even could I be there. Go, and let her now that she has one! But tarry not as long as you have in the past!"

Aldarion was ashamed of his words, for his anger at his father was overcome by the love in her words. He realized, since she could not stand being off Númenor and he wanted to be away from it as soon as possible, that he must take a voyage soon and that once he had found release they would be able to live together in bliss.

He made ready to set sail, and the Guild was glad that he had at last done so, although no one else in the island knew what he was doing. He took only three ships this time, for he did not plan on going far. Erendis brought the bow of oiolairë for the third time, and waved a sad farewell to Aldarion as the ships passed the harbor walls.

It was over six years before Aldarion returned to Númenor. Queen Almarian, who had once supported him, was cold in welcoming him home, and he found that the Guild had fallen into disgrace, for the Númenoreans assumed that Aldarion had treated Erendis poorly, and had fled from her.

Indeed Aldarion had been gone for too long, but he had good reason. When he came to the harbor of Vinyalondë he found it in ruins, and he found it near impossible to restore. To make things even worse, Men living on the coast who had once been quite friendly and helpful were now afraid of the Númenoreans. They became openly hostile, and called them "elf-friends" as though it was some kind of curse. Aldarion also heard rumors of some distant Lord who hated the Númenoreans with every fiber of his being, although all of Aldarion's attempts to find this man failed.

Aldarion attempted to return home, but his ships were borne northwards by the winds and he tarried in Mithlond, talking with the elves. He discovered that some elves had gone rogue and were attacking the Men of Endor. The elves under Gil-galad's control were still friends of all Men, however.

At last, Aldarion was able to return. He was dismayed upon arriving to see that the oiolairë had withered and feared that something had happened to Erendis. A nearby mariner explained that it was due to the frost, but Aldarion was still worried.

He met with Erendis as soon as he was able. At first he stood in silence, but Erendis eventually bid him sit and tell her of his deeds. Aldarion spoke haltingly, but eventually the whole story was told. Erendis was thankful that he returned, but still professed her disinterest in the sea, saying that she would have withered like the oiolairë.

Aldarion said that he would understand if Erendis chose to dismiss him now, but she said that their love was not yet ended. Finally, they were going to be married.

* * *

><p>"Why did you stop?" asked Sirilfa.<p>

"Well, this a good stopping point," Aulenmir replied.

"Aww, I wanted to hear about the wedding," said Peladin.

"Don't worry," said Aulenmir. "Hopefully we can do more of this tonight."

"Unca, I hava question," Sirilfa said thoughtfully.

"Ask away!"

"Why would Aldarion leave Erendis even when he knows that will hurt her?" she asked.

Aulenmir sighed. "Sometimes, good people do stupid things, and all good men have weaknesses. Aldarion's weakness was his love, and it lead him to do many stupid things. However, keep in mind that without many stupid things done by many otherwise good people, the world would be a very different place. It may be a better place, but in this better world there might be a chance that you and I don't exist."

"I don't think I'd want to be in that world," Sirilfa muttered sleepily.

Aulenmir noticed this and change subjects. "All right, you two, time to get some sleep. We'll continue tomorrow night."

* * *

><p>Telimperion and Tu-Ankh walked over to the houses of healing. For once, they were in no hurry. After all, they technically had almost two weeks to get there. They stopped once or twice along the way to get some things from a few of the vendors in the city. Telimperion made sure that they weren't spending too much money, although Tu-Ankh said that it didn't really matter.<p>

By the time they actually arrived at the houses it was nearly dusk. "Do you think they'll let us stay here?" asked Telimperion. "I don't really want to walk back in the dark."

"Me neither," Tu-Ankh replied. "We'll ask them once they are done looking at me."

When they walked inside a woman sitting at a desk looked up. "What brings you two here?" she asked. "Most sick people go one of the doctors, not here. I'm Irneth, by the way."

"Hello, Irneth," Tu-Ankh said politely. "I am here because I do not believe that my condition is treatable by most doctors."

Irneth looked at him curiously. "Is that so? Well, guess you'd better come with me, then." She walked out from behind the desk and through a hallway off to the side. Telimperion and Tu-Ankh glanced at each other, and then followed her.

Irneth halted in the first room that they came to. The room had a high ceiling with a few narrow windows at the top. There was very little illumination in the room, and it was painted in a rusty shade of red. "This is our examination room. One of our healers will be in with you shortly," she said.

Telimperion nodded. She talked with Tu-Ankh to pass the time. "What do you think they can tell us?"

"I don't know, but hopefully they have some information that will be useful," he said. "If not, then we'll have to hope that King Elessar is in a very helpful mood today."

"I hope so. I would hate for you to have to suffer more than you already have."

Tu-Ankh looked strait at her. "I'm not suffering when I'm with you."

Telimperion blushed and was glad that the room was to dark for him to tell. The awkward moment was ended luckily when the healer arrived.

The healer was a relatively short man, dressed in robes that matched the color of the room. He had dark hair and dark eyes, though his skin was rather pale. He smiled briefly. "Hello, my name is Ionath. I am going to help examine you today. First, I need you to tell me what you think may be wrong."

Tu-Ankh told Ionath everything that he had told Telimperion. At the end of his tale, everyone in the room was nearly in tears from hearing the story. Ionath regained control of his emotions. "All right, then. I will see what I can discover. Please, disrobe and lie back."

Telimperion turned away as Tu-Ankh unclothed himself, but couldn't help but watch the examination after Tu-Ankh lay down. She blushed again, and wondered what was up with herself today.

Ionath placed his hands on Tu-Ankh's stomach and forehead. He closed his eyes and appeared to be concentrating intently. To her shock, Telimperion noticed that his hands were glowing. It was definitely a good decision to bring Tu-Ankh to here and not some normal doctor.

After what seemed like hours, Ionath finally removed his hands and allowed Tu-Ankh to dress. He looked shaken, and was no doubt surprised by what he had seen in Tu-Ankh. He coughed to clear his throat and then began to speak. "I am afraid I cannot tell you much more than what you already know. What has been done to you is beyond my skill to determine. I do not wish to sound boastful, but if it is beyond my skill then it is beyond that of any other Man in this city as well."

"That is all right, healer Ionath. We understand," Telimperion said forgivingly.

Tu-Ankh frowned. "You said 'Man', correct?"

"Yes, why?"

"Oh, a thought just occurred to me. Anyways, carry on with your diagnosis."

"Absolutely. From what I can tell, the elves that did this to you had a few major goals. I am not entirely sure what the motives of these elves were. We know that they may have been trying to create men with the physical powers of elves, but with the magical capabilities of Men. However, I cannot figure out why they would want to do that.

"Their first goal was to bind your spirit to your body so that even if you were to die you could not leave your body. They accomplished this by killing you, then performing necromantic rites on your body to rebind your spirit to your body. It is interesting to note that their necromantic capabilities seemed to surpass even Sauron's. My theory is that they may have even learned the basics from Sauron, who taught them in the hope that they would do exactly this: improve on the art and then teach their improvements to him. Luckily, almost all of the Shapet were eliminated before he could learn these techniques.

"Anyway, I digress. Their second goal was to make it so that your body regenerated from any source of harm, so that if you were to die, your body would heal itself and then you would go on living. So, if someone stabs you through the heart, a normal man would die and stay dead. However, with you your heart would eventually heal and because your spirit never left your body once it did you would be ready to go again.

"Now, there are some potential ways out of this, but it's all very risk. Fire alone probably isn't enough, as your body would heal itself as it was being immolated. Permanent immolation, such as putting yourself into a volcano, might be enough, but there's a chance that you would just exist in eternal agony, so I'm not sure I'd risk it. Sorry I can't be of more help."

Tu-Ankh stood up. "It is all right. You tried your hardest and gave me some new information; that is enough. I thank you for your deeds and will live forever in gratitude."

Telimperion also stood up and together they left.

"You know, I just realized something," Tu-Ankh said.

"What's that?"

"Well, just a few weeks ago I wouldn't have been able to open myself up like that and tell a complete stranger my life story. But, ever since you came along, I've found myself able to do more and more things like that."

Telimperion blushed again. "Speaking of me…did you mean what you said in there? You know, about me."

Tu-Ankh smiled. "Yes. Every word. You have helped me so much, Telimperion. You have given me hope, a reason to live."

Telimperion smiled. Then, she leaned in and kissed Tu-Ankh softly. "You too, she said softly. Tu-Ankh smiled, and then kissed her too. They walked together, hand-in-hand, smiling happily all the way back to the inn.

* * *

><p>"I see it!" called Hannish from out in front. Sure enough, right in front of them was the Guard House. The Guard House was actually a small building, about the size of a trading post. The Gondorian army used it to keep watch on Mordor so that things like the orc army currently in Gorgoroth didn't surprise them by destroying Ithilien. Everyone was relieved to find it, as they had been walking double time without resting for nearly twenty-four hours in order to find it. Mermacil summoned everyone in.<p>

"Okay, hopefully our contact is still here. If not, we ask someone else what's going on. If no one knows, we find out where our contact is and pursue him there. If no one knows that either, then we head into Nurn and see what the Nurnians know. Everyone got that?"

Everyone responded with a simple "Yes, sir!"

Mermacil nodded. "All right. Remember, if anyone gives you trouble, don't hesitate to give it right back to them. Let's go!"

They quickly made their way over to the Guard House. The door was slightly ajar, so they didn't need to knock. "That's odd," said Mermacil. "Military code requires them to at least keep the door shut, if not barred, to protect against intruders." Mermacil pushed the door open further and was greeted by one of the most gruesome sights he had ever seen. Elarë shrieked, and Lt. Samnon nearly fainted.

Strewn about in the Guard House were dozens of dead men. Most of them had been grossly mutilated in various obscene ways. Blood and gore covered the room, and the overpowering stench of rotting flesh was so strong Mermacil wondered how they hadn't noticed it earlier.

"What could have done this?" asked Elarë.

"Orcs," said Lt. Samnon.

"But not just any orcs," said Kith'tar.

"Indeed. Nurnian orcs would never have done anything like this."

"Yes, they tend to respect humans that haven't done anything to hurt them."

"And this lot wouldn't have done that."

"So, that means-

"Yes, it must be-"

"The orcs of Gorgoroth!" they finished simultaneously.

"Very nice," said Mermacil. "Are you telling me we have to head all the way down to Nurn just to figure out why these orcs are here and why they attacked the Guard House?"

Just then, they heard a groaning noise coming from one of the bodies.

"One of them must not be dead yet!" shouted Elarë.

"Thank Eru!" said Hannish.

The group rushed over to the man and knelt down beside him. "Are you wounded?" asked Kith'tar.

"Yes, but not severely," the man said. "One of the orcs knocked me out and left me for dead. Luckily, I escaped unscathed."

"Thank goodness you're all right," Elarë said.

"Indeed," said Mermacil. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Benethro," the man said softly.

"Can you tell us why there is an army of orcs in Gorgoroth."

Benethro nodded weakly. "I sure can. I had been working out here for about four years when it all began. For that time, Gorgoroth had been entirely abandoned by any intelligent beings. Even the animals seemed to shy away from it. We only went in there when requested of us, which wasn't often, or when we needed to send a message very quickly.

"However, about six months ago we felt this awful presence settle into Gorgoroth. Although we stopped feeling the presence, we all knew it was there. It began calling the orcs to its service, and they came in droves. Now, it has the army that you see today."

"Can you tell us what it is? Or why it wants the orcs?"

"I don't know," said Benethro. "The Nurnians might know."

"Thank you, Benethro," said Mermacil. "You have given us invaluable knowledge."

He stood up. "Okay, looks like we have a new plan. We're going to head straight into Nurn. Our contact won't be able to give us any more useful information than Benethro did. First, however, we will rest here."

"Are we taking Benethro with us?" asked Hannish.

Mermacil thought for a moment. "No. I don't know him and he affect this team in to many unpredictable ways. We'll leave him with some supplies; enough for him to get out of Mordor, at any rate."

The party decided to set up their camp outside, away from all of the death. Mermacil planned to burn the bodies before they left, to give them a proper Gondorian burial. Exhausted from their quick march, the group soon fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Altariel soon returned to her office, ready to put together all the pieces of the puzzle that she had been given. She took her sword out from underneath her mattress and brought it over to her side. She was reasonably sure that Arvegil wouldn't do anything to hurt her, but he wasn't the most rational man currently, and she wasn't totally sure what he was capable of. She had also warned the guards that patrolled her level of the building.<p>

The first mystery that she had to think about was what King Elessar had sent her to do. Thanks to Mara's revelation, it was obvious that he wanted to reward his family, but he didn't quite trust the bond of blood enough to let him rule unwatched. However, the question still remained: why Altariel? Anyone could have observed Arvegil, why pick some green girl from the Vale?

Altariel wrote out a quick letter to King Elessar.

_ Your Majesty,_

_I am writing to update my status here in Arnor. I have informed Arvegil of my status as an Inquisitor. From what I have seen of him so far, he is not fit to serve as your Steward here. This is not my final decision; he may surprise me yet. I will search from your list of candidates for a suitable successor. Also, there has been some tension between the Hobbits and Men recently. I am working to resolve it right now._

_ Your ever-faithful servant, Lady Altariel_

Altariel called for Mara then ordered her to mail the letter. Now she could focus on the important mystery: who was behind the killings? It seemed as though everyone had been ruled out. The Hobbits were unlikely to kill anyone, let alone one of their own. Altariel decided she would ask Sam for more specific details on who was killed. Perhaps there was a Hobbit family feud in the works here. However, Altariel doubted it.

Similarly, none of the Men were likely to kill their own kind, and it would have been difficult for them to get into the Shire and kill the Hobbits. It was possible that Altariel was looking at several unrelated killing sprees, but that required a lot of circumstance and she couldn't see any catalysts for the conflict. However, she put that on her list of possibilities.

_Could it be that there was a third party involved?_, she wondered. However, no one sprang to mind. The Elves had long lost any relevance in the region, and were also unlikely to want to kill anyone here or upset the region. The Icemen of the North were too far away to be concerned with so simple a subject, and the dwarves were isolationist to a disturbing extreme. There is no way they'd want to get involved with Arnor.

Altariel's gaze drifted over a map of Eriador that was hung on the wall of her office and came to rest on a section labeled "Angmar". Her breath caught in her throat. But, no, that was silly. Sauron and his servants had been defeated decades ago. All reports indicated that once the Ring had been destroyed, the Nine had been slain.

However, the though persisted, refusing to die down. Altariel began to consider other possibilities. If one related to Sauron had survived and relocated to Eriador, it could be commanding orcs to do its dirty work. Altariel decided that she was too tired to try and solve things any further. She would rest on this and take the problem on with a fresh mind.

Suddenly, she was interrupted by a knock at the door. She opened it cautiously with her hand on the grip of her sword. "It's me, Sam," a familiar voice whispered from the other side. He walked in and hurriedly shut the door behind him. Altariel noticed that he was bleeding and had several cuts on his face.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Assassins came after me," he whispered. "I fought them off with my sword. You are the only person I trust outside of the Shire, so I came here. Now, we need to-" he broke off suddenly upon hearing an ominous knocking at the door. "They're here," he whispered.

Before Altariel could even ask who was there, the door was abruptly kicked inwards. She pulled Sam out of the way and then pushed him behind her. Although when she first left the Vale she hadn't known how to fight at all, she had lost no time learning. The three men were all armed with daggers and weren't wearing armor. They were clearly not looking for a fight.

Within a few seconds, it was all over for them. Altariel barely even needed to try. She simply used her superior reach and skill and before Sam could even try and defend her they were dead. "Quick," she said to Sam. "We need to get out of here. I have a safe house just in case anyone ever came after me. We need to go there before-" She stopped talking to dodge a knife flung by a new assassin. She slashed quickly with her sword, killing them. "-anyone else comes after us," she finished.

Sam and Altariel ran through the woods for almost an hour before they finally got to Altariel's safe house. "Come inside and I'll take a look at your injuries", she said. Luckily, his injuries were only cuts and bruises and she was able to sew up his more serious cuts. "What do we do now?" he asked.

Altariel shrugged. "For now, we rest. We'll figure out what to do tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Inside their tent, Liriel admired their backup. The newcomer impressed Liriel. He wore shining armor and had a rather large sword. Even if he had no idea what he was doing, he would be doing it in style. Guband gestured proudly to the man. "This is Turondo, the solution to the problem you encountered in the tunnel!" she announced.<p>

Liriel frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the main problem you experienced down there was the sensation of that evil and nasty thing. Turondo will help fix that problem."

Liriel rolled here eyes. "I understood that part. What I wanted to know was _how_?'

Pazij interrupted their conversation. "Oh, that's simple. Turondo is a priest of Schulr, the Kirran goddess of light." She paused, expecting that Liriel would now understand.

Liriel sighed. "I didn't grow up here, remember? What does that mean?"

Pazij sighed as well. "My apologies, I keep forgetting. Schulr grants her priests magical abilities related to hope and guidance. Turondo can cast spells that will protect us from the thing down there."

Comprehension dawned on Liriel. "That's a very good solution. Now I have even more reasons to like him."

"Indeed," said Guband. "Also, if it turns out that whatever is down there is tangible, the four of us have plenty of power to fight it."

"Now I'm all confused again," Liriel complained. "What do you mean 'the four of us'?"

"Damn it, Guband!" yelled Pazij. She sighed again. "Now that Guband's spoiled things I may as well tell you. We were not assigned with you by accident, a fact. Guband and I also have powers, though not quite the same as yours. I can shoot fire from my hands, while Guband has minor control over the air around her." Guband demonstrated by blowing out the candle in their tent, and Pazij demonstrated by relighting it.

Liriel gaped at them. "I…I had no idea."

"Indeed. And if _someone_ hadn't gone and ruined things you wouldn't have found out unless it was necessary."

"Well, I'm relieved to know that in addition to a group of soldiers I will have two more people like me with us."

Guband frowned. "Actually, we're not bringing the soldiers with us."

"Why not? Don't they help us?"

Guband shook her head. "Actually, not as much as you'd think. Anything that could defeat us without them could probably defeat us with them. Admittedly, while they would make good shield, Turondo can't protect all of them, so they would be worthless anyways."

"I guess that makes sense," Liriel admitted. She crawled into their sleeping bag inside the tent, and Guband and Pazij did the same. Today had been a day of astounding revelations. She couldn't wait to see what wonders the expedition would bring.


	11. Chapter 10

_Prompted by Tar-Palantir, I have considered taking up some sort of hobby. As he undoubtedly correctly points out, I do not really do much during the day aside from writing and more writing. To be fair, as someone who has been a scribe for the vast percentage of my life that should probably only be expected by him. Still, I am touched that he is concerned about my entertainment and the like._

_I have already decided that I will not be able to pick up any overly physical hobby, if I do indeed take up a new hobby. Hunting is definitely right out. I have never quite been comfortable with taking the life of any beast or man, I do not intend to try and make myself more comfortable. In addition, I would have no one to hunt with, for Tar-Palantir doesn't hunt._

_For similar reasons, it is unlikely that I will start jousting or competing in tourneys, which often end in bloodshed. Also, I am becoming an old man at this point, and I doubt, even if I somehow gain the physique required to fight, that I would ever be fight or dexterous enough to actually fight. This eliminates fencing and, due to the extreme strength requirement, archery._

_I considered taking up a trade next. Pottery is something that I actually enjoyed, despite its inherent messiness, although I doubt you could say that I am good at it (it was nice of Tar-Palantir to say that he liked my pottery, though). I don't really enjoy most other forms of artwork. The skill required to successfully paint seems to have escaped me, and at this age I doubt I shall ever recapture._

_Blacksmithing probably requires too much strength, and I'd rather not be an assistant, only there for the purpose of pumping the bellows. Being a cooper seems as though it would be interesting, although I can't say I would have many drinks to put in my barrels. As a general rule, I do not drink (which pretty much eliminates being a brewer). I would not want to be a cobbler or a candle maker. I mean no disrespect to the people who actually have those jobs, but I simply cannot see such a job as exciting._

_I even tried to get interested in a game, such as Scachen or a game of chance. However, gambling doesn't interest me, and I, once more, have no one to play those games with. I lack the talent to play an instrument, so even that choice is out._

_In the end, I doubt I will actually pick up any hobby, regardless of how much Tar-Palantir urges me to do so. I enjoy what I do and there are always more things to write about, as my many journals have proven._

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>Parthekos was rudely awakened by Fulazuntê shaking him awake. He sat up suddenly, confused about where he was. Then, he remembered. Fulazuntê gave him a wicked grin and held a bowl out in front of her. Inside the bowl was a dark liquid. "Here. Drink this," she commanded.<p>

"What is it?" he inquired.

"We call it _ologalazjî_. The drink frees yer mind and will make it easier for ya to complete the Trial."

Parthekos was somewhat surprised by Fulazuntê's openness, so he dared to ask another question. "What is this Trial?"

Fulazuntê's grin widened. "Our shamans are adept at peering into minds that have been opened by _ologalazjî_. They will see into yers and determine if you are worthy. If ya are, then ya c'n stay with us and preach to the few idiots who might listen to ya."

"And if I'm not found worthy?"

"Our shaman will set a punishment for you. Now, drink!"

Parthekos did as he was told. The drink was very bitter, and he nearly coughed it all back up. It burned on the way down and boiled in his stomach. His body temporarily felt as though it was on fire, as though the _ologalazjî_ was trying to claw his way out. He felt nothing but sharp pain and emptiness. Then it was gone, replaced by emptiness.

Suddenly, he felt as though his mind was expanding, contracting, and then expanding again. His vision began to go in and out of focus and he heard noises that weren't there. He felt as though he could almost sense Fulazuntê. No, that wasn't right. He felt as though he could sense her _soul_.

Fulazuntê, seeing that the _ologalazjî_ had begun to take affect, ushered Parthekos out of his tent and into the early light. Although the dim dawn light combined with the effects of the drink made it hard for Parthekos to see his way, he was able to make his way to the center of the camp without relying on Fulazuntê's help.

The entire camp was assembled there, including the gohil. They were seated in a circle around a large decorated chair and an orc dressed in a ceremonial costume. Fulazuntê lead Parthekos over to the chair and sat him down in it. The man began talking. Parthekos was having difficulty understanding him, but he tried his hardest.

"I am Azinologa, shaman of the _mallo_ _noslon_. I am going to ask you a series of questions. I will know if you are lying. Do you understand?"

Parthekos nodded, not trusting himself to talk under the influence of the drink quite yet.

Azinologa's eyes seemed to burn. "Good. We will start off with a simple question and get progressively harder and harder."

In the circle, the orcs had begun chanting and playing various drums and horns. The resulting sound was actually rather unnerving, sounding like some kind of massive storm. It only continued to overload Parthekos's senses, which were already reeling from the _ologalazjî_. Azinologa asked his first question, screaming to be heard "What is your name?"

"I am Parthekos Brannonion!" he shouted back.

Azinologa nodded. "I'm glad you told the truth, Parthekos. Once you have taken the first step, everything becomes much easier." Frowning, Parthekos realized the truth of the shaman's words. He had begun to feel relaxed, and he didn't care about trying to look good for the trial. To the shaman, his mind must have been even further open than before.

Azinologa asked his next question. "What is your job?"

"I am a priest of the god Azao. My job is to convert the orcs of the Orocarni Mountains."

"Why are you here?" Azinologa was staring at Parthekos, focusing hard on him. Parthekos felt a bit perturbed by the orc's menacing gaze. He struggled to find his voice at first prompting Azinologa to shout at him. "Answer!"

"I told you," he responded crossly. "I am here to convert the orcs."

"You lie!" crowed Azinologa. The music turned ominous and threatening. "I give you one more chance! Why are you really here?"

Parthekos hung his head. "I am here to escape."

"Good. Escape what?"

"The Yasugi plans to attack my temple and leave no survivors." Before Azinologa could interrupt with another question, Parthekos launched into an explanation about the system of ranks in the Azaon church to explain what exactly a "Yasugi" was. He hoped that revealing this information would end his trial. However, the music did not stop; Azinologa asked another question.

"Why did you come here?"

Parthekos was confused. "What do you mean?"

'You did not have to flee to our lands," Azinologa explained. "You could have gone anywhere else. Why did you choose here?"

Parthekos did not reply immediately as he was not entirely sure why he had either. At last, he responded, "Because the Yasugi told me to."

"The same man who intended to betray you?" Azinologa asked, not believing the man despite what his shaman powers were telling him.

"I-I must follow my god. He teaches to respect those who command above you."

Parthekos heard a snorting sound from one of the orcs and say that it was Fulazuntê. Realizing that she had been found, she gave him another one of her grins and was silent. Azinologa was also silent, pondering what he had heard. The music slowed and became more like a complex heartbeat. Finally, Azinologa realized what he needed to ask. "By your mind, I can tell that you are not Kirran. You are not Rochanach, and you are not Lax'yzen. Where do you come from, and why did you go to Hyarragash?"

Parthekos answered willingly. "I come from the Vale in Gondor. I left there because my father was killed."

From these answers, though they were incomplete, Azinologa saw new regions of Parthekos's mind and understood why he was here; perhaps better than Parthekos himself did. He turned away from Parthekos to face his entire tribe. "After putting Parthekos Brannonion through the Trial of Trust, I now pronounce him worthy. Let all rejoice!"

Many orcs hooted and hollered in his favor, though some also booed. Worst of all, some orcs were dead silent, staring at Parthekos and judging him for themselves. Parthekos was surprised and mildly pleased to find that Fulazuntê was among the cheering crowd. However, he noticed that the gohil wasn't.

The shaman approached Parthekos carrying a bowl and a knife. Parthekos peered at the objects curiously. "What are those for," he asked wearily. The trial, short though it was, had been intense and quite tiring.

"You have yet to official pass until you are marked with the symbol of our tribe." Although the explanation wasn't complete, Parthekos understood what was needed without any more. Noticing his apprehension, Azinologa, much nicer toward Parthekos now that he had been tried, added, "the _ologalazjî _should help dull the pain." Then, before anything else could be said or done, he quickly dashed the knife over Parthekos's cheek, marking what looked like a stylized "Æ".

The _ologalazjî _definitely helped. The shock did not overwhelm Parthekos, like it would have otherwise. However, he still screamed like a newborn babe. Azinologa collected what blood he could in his bowl, then walked off whistling.

Fulazuntê approached him, her attitude utterly different than before. "I always knew ya could make it, man!" she said excitedly, slapping him the back. "Looks like you're part of the _mallo noslon_ now. Here let me introduce you to everyone…"

Parthekos let Fulazuntê's words wash over him. He was too tired to focus on them right now. For now, he was just glad that his ordeal was finally over. He also felt a spark of excitement inside himself, ready to ignite his currently dormant religious fervor. Tonight, it appeared, they would celebrate. Tomorrow, however, he was ready to begin.

Say what you will about orcs, but they definitely know how best to throw a party. Parthekos, who was admittedly hardly a party veteran, was utterly overwhelmed by the festivities. Everywhere, orcs were unashamedly drinking, feasting, playing, dancing, and loving. There was music here too, though it was far more festive and uplifting than the chant from earlier. The whole affair was nearly as much of an assault upon Parthekos's senses as the _ologalazjî_.

It was a little too much for the poor Man, who had already suffered quite a day. He retired to his tent, though was unable to sleep until much later, due to the noise. However, eventually he did, and he did so excitedly, hoping for tomorrow.

When Parthekos awoke, the first thing he felt was a burning sensation in his cheek. He reached up to it and was surprised to feel wetness there. He pulled his hand away and gasped, seeing the blood that was there. He struggled to remember how he could have gotten cut there. His memories of yesterday were very fuzzy, and he only had a dim recollection of what had transpired.

"Yeah, that's probably gonna sting for some time," said a voice from within his tent. Parthekos suddenly sat up right, startled by the noise. In a rush, all the memories of yesterday came back to him.

"Uhhh," he groaned. "Who are you?" Now that he was properly awake, he could make out the vague silhouette of a female orc. She was wearing a simple leather tunic and had several tattoos on her arms and legs. She was grinning widely in a familiar way.

"Yuv met my sister before," she hinted.

"Fulazuntê?" he said disbelievingly.

"That's her! I'm her sister, Higulilû!" the orc said in a bright and cheery voice. Parthekos peered into the darkness of the tent, trying to make out more details of her face. "Oops, my mistake," she said. "I always forget that you humans can't see that well in the dark." Higulilû turned around and opened up a flap of Parthekos's tent, allowing the morning sun to stream in. Now that Parthekos could see her better he saw the obvious resemblance between Higulilû and Fulazuntê.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"Well, as a new member o' the tribe, ya need someone ta show you 'round. I've been assigned ta that duty. The first thing you need to do, of course, is get dressed. Not in the silly robes you were wearing when you arrived, though. Those'd never do out here." Higulilû tossed him a bundle of clothing. "Put these on," she commanded. "You're one of us now, so you were our clothing."

Parthekos quickly did as he was told, shedding his robes and other garments in favor of the new orc clothing. It fit him surprisingly well, and was of a very sturdy, yet comfortable, quality. When he was dressed to her satisfaction, Higulilû spoke again. "Now, the next thing ya need to do is eat. The hunters have brought back some food already, so we'll have some of that."

Parthekos felt a momentary pang of panic. "Don't I have some time to perform my daily routines?" he asked.

Higulilû leaned in with a deadly serious expression on her face. "Look, kid," she said sternly. "Perhaps you didn't grasp this yet, but you're not in Hyarragash or in Kirranmar anymore. You're in Rhoneregurgigan, and you're going to act like it. From now on, ya follow a new routine, and you follow me. Are we solid."

Parthekos nodded dumbly. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. The routines were the most important part of being a priest of Azao. Without them, he was nothing! However, he steeled himself. He knew that converting the orcs would not be easy. He knew that it would require sacrifices. This was just one more. He would not let the orcs compromise his identity.

"Good," Higulilû said, satisfied with the response she got. "Now, let's go get some food."

The food was being served by several older orcs in the center of the camp. As Parthekos had expected, it was mostly meat, but there was a surprising amount of vegetables there as well. Higulilû helped serve his food, and they sat down together with a group of orcs that were about Higulilû's age. She introduced him all. "Parthekos, these are my clan mates, Urgûpergel, Kalatavê, and Wilazûrûzj. Urgûpergel, Kalatavê, and Wilazûrûzj, this is our new member, Parthekos.

Urgûpergel was a small, yet thin orc, with a hairy face, chest, and feet. His name literally meant "Orc-hobbit", so the hair and size made sense. Urgûpergel was sitting down and sharpening a knife. He had at least three more in his belt. He wasn't wearing a shirt, like most of the male orcs, and some of the female orcs, in the camp. He grunted a greeting at Parthekos.

Kalatavê scowled at him. She was a tall, pale-skinned orc that clearly didn't take well to new people. She was busy knitting together a garment of some kind. Parthekos wondered briefly were the orcs had gotten yarn from. "Hello, Parthekos," she said in a cool voice. "I hope you are doing well," she said in a voice that said she hoped no such thing.

"I am, thank you," responded Parthekos, trying to keep his irritation out of his voice, though by the satisfied look on Kalatavê's face he suspected he had failed.

The last person, Wilazûrûzj, looked at Parthekos with a thoughtful expression on his face. He spoke in a very quickly. "Hello, Parthekos, as Higulilû has told you my name is Wilazûrûzj. I am the chief, well technically the only member of the scribes of this tribe. I look forward to working with you."

"What do you mean?" inquired Parthekos.

Higulilû spoke before Wilazûrûzj could. "Every orc in the tribe has a job, whether it is hunter," she paused and pointed to Urgûpergel, "weaver," she pointed to Kalatavê, "or scribe. You have been assigned to scribe."

Parthekos was disappointed. "When will I have time to preach?" he asked.

"After we eat our evening meal, during your free time. Now, eat your breakfast and then follow Wilazûrûzj."

Parthekos did as he was told, then looked at Wilazûrûzj expectantly. Parthekos was undoubtedly a better writer than most of the orcs here were, and luckily the script of the orcs wasn't too different from Westron.

"Right then, let's go," said Wilazûrûzj. He walked off, and Parthekos followed behind him.

* * *

><p>Liriel woke up and was ready in a flash. Today was the day; they were finally heading in. Guband and Pazij were also ready. Liriel couldn't help but see them in a different light now that she knew. She was a little bitter that her friends had been keeping secrets from her, and she wasn't going to forget about it. However, she realized that they thought they were in the right, and now definitely wasn't the time for tension in their group.<p>

The three women met up with Turondo right in front of the hole in the ground. He made a gesture and raised his fist into the air, while saying "**Shutvordembo**!" in a loud voice. "That will protect us from the presence down there," he said as an explanation.

Liriel nodded. "Good. I don't want to ever feel that way again," she said, shuddering at the very thought of having to feel that way.

Turondo spoke again. "Before we go down, I feel that I should cast a few more spells."

"I don't see why not," Guband said. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to create a ball of light that will make it easier for us to see once we are deeper down there. I will also ward you three with another spell that makes it harder to be injured. I would be deeply ashamed if any of you three came to harm down there."

He took a deep breath and made a few more gestures, then said, "**Langicht**! **Audergefaz**!" A bright light shone briefly from his palm before dimming. "That should do it," he said with a look of satisfaction. "Also, as a warning I have a limited amount of divine energy that I can cast before I rest, so we must use my magic sparingly."

Pazij nodded. "We have similar limitations, although admittedly Primatic magic isn't quite as well understood as Divine."

"Are we all ready?" Guband asked.

"I think so," Liriel responded. Guband nodded, then signaled for four of the excavators to attach ropes to their harnesses. Another excavator made sure that their harnesses were on properly, while a fifth one secured their belongings in a large back that Turondo would be carrying. He also attached a rope to it to be lowered along with the others.

The excavators had at first tried to widen the whole so that all of them could go down at once with their stuff. Technically, with the diameter of the hole they could do that, but it would be tight, uncomfortable, and with a great risk of danger. However, the karthal blocked most of their attempts, though they were able to widen it in some areas. As a result, they were being lowered down in pairs, with the belongings coming down last.

The first pair up was Liriel and Turondo. The excavators signaled to them asking if they were ready. They replied that they were, waited to make sure that the excavators understood, then jumped into the whole. Almost right away, they were caught by the ropes and were then slowly lowered down the hole. Turondo's light followed them, illuminating every single crevice and crack along the way. Finally, they reached the bottom. They undid their harnesses and dropped onto the floor

Liriel's heart began to beat faster, expecting the feeling she had experienced earlier to return. However, it seemed that, for now at least, Turondo's spell was holding up and she felt normal. Now that a strong light illuminated the tunnel, Liriel could see that it was not a tunnel at all, but a corridor of the Swazverai. Liriel wrinkled he nose in disgust as she realized that Turondo's spell couldn't block out the physical rot of the tunnel.

As though they were thinking in unison, Turondo cast another spell, saying "**Shutvorfaln**!" At once, the awful smell disappeared. "Much better," he said, with an air of satisfaction. Soon afterwards, Pazij and Guband were lowered down, soon to be followed by their belongings. Because Turondo had put his armor and sword in his belongings, after they undid their harnesses, everyone had to wait while he got equipped.

Liriel spoke suddenly. "Hey, wasn't the point of sending you down first to protect us?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?" Turondo responded as he put on his breastplate.

"How can you do that without your sword and stuff?"

Turondo smiled. "I have been trained in several forms of martial arts. Any threat to you, I could have incapacitated."

"Even The Swarm?" interjected Pazij with an "I got you" look on her face.

Turondo hesitated briefly before answering, looking to Guband for support. Seeing that he would get none, he did his best to answer. "Well, having never actually countered The Swarm before, I don't know how well my martial skills would work, although in my experience most creatures find having their neck snapped to be fatal. However, I am sure that my magic could accomplish something that even my sword probably couldn't"

"All right," Pazij admitted. "That's a good point."

"Shall we begin?" asked Liriel.

"Yes, let's," said Guband.

"Wait a minute," Turondo demanded. "Where are we going?"

"We need to find a way down," Pazij responded.

"Can't Liriel just make a hole in the ground?"

"No," snapped Guband. "We tried, but the ground is too thick for her to do it in under a day, and at that point we might as well call down the excavators."

"Why don't we do that?"

"For the same reason we didn't bring soldiers with us," she said in a tone that brooked no further discussion. "Now come on, let's go!"

She began walking down the corridor and the others had no choice but to follow her. Guband was a tall woman, so her stride was long and the others, even Turondo had to walk fast to keep up with her. Hopefully, they would reach an area were they could descend further into to the temple.

For the first few hours, they walked along without any trouble. They stopped briefly to have a short meal, and then they were on their way again. However, as they started up, they ran into their first problem.

"Sweet Xulping," whispered Turondo. There, right in front of them, was a part of The Swarm. None of them had ever encountered anything from The Swarm before, but these things fit the description perfectly. All the reports said that there were many different beings that made up the swarm, but they all shared one thing: they looked like undead. The most common member of The Swarm were said to be literally nothing beyond corpses that had been brought back to life in some foul manner. Here, the four of them saw that they were most certainly undead.

There were four of them, and they shambled down the corridor towards Liriel and the others. Pazij stepped out in front. "Let me handle them," she said confidently. She raised her palm up and, concentrating hard, breathed outwards toward the corpses. Suddenly, a huge jet of fire spurted from her palm, incinerating the four corpses instantly. Liriel and the others, who had never seen such a display before, were wowed by Pazij's magic.

However, the effort of such a spectacle exhausted Pazij, and she nearly fainted. "I won't be able to pull of a trick like that again," she said tiredly.

"That's all right," Liriel said soothingly. "It'll be one of our turns next."

They continued walking on, although they were growing more and more discouraged. They hadn't seen a single way down or even another corridor branching off of this one. They hadn't even seen any rooms in this corridor! However, Liriel tried to take an optimistic approach and reminded herself that this would make it easy for them to find their way out.

"Looks like we've got trouble again!" called Guband. In front of them was another monster from the Swarm.

"Looks like a ghast," said Turondo. Liriel nodded, agreeing with his assessment. Ghasts were creatures that were stronger than the average corpse. They were rumored to have a few powers beyond that as well, although none had been able to confirm this. However, there were relatively few ghasts compared to the number of corpses.

Guband stood in front of the others and readied her magic. She blasted several puffs of air at the ghast. However, the ghast was faster and stronger than she expected. Although the air seemed to ignore, it was able to come close and touch Guband before she could blast it back. Right at that moment, they realized another power that ghasts have. Guband was frozen, paralyzed by the ghast's touch.

Liriel realized what she had to do. "Turondo, protect me!" she commanded. Turondo obeyed instantly, charging at the ghast. The ghast's touch was ineffective against his armor, so the ghast was forced to attempt to rip it off while dodging Turondo's sword. Meanwhile, Liriel knelt down and pressed her fist to the ground. She closed her eyes. She had never done something like this before, and needed all the concentration she could get.

She reached out with her mind, feeling where the ghast was walking on the corridor. She felt where its feet were and pulled the ground up to meet them, rooting the ghast in place. The ghast moaned in frustration. That was the easy part, Liriel knew. What came next was the hard part. Sensing the ghast, she willed the ground to became part of the ghast. Slowly, inch-by-inch, the ghast was transformed into rock. The screams went on until the rock reached its heart. Liriel opened her eyes to find Turondo and Pazij staring at her in horror. She ignored them; this was not the time for that.

She looked over at the still frozen Guband. "Heal her!" she said to Turondo. He walked over to Guband and performed one of his spells, saying, "**Entfermung**!"

Guband, not realizing what had happened, blasted some more air before finally realizing that the ghast had paralyzed her. She looked around and saw that Pazij was still exhausted, Liriel was exhausted from transforming the ghast, Turondo was exhausted from healing her, and that she was exhausted from fighting the ghast. "Why don't we rest here?" she suggested. Everyone agreed that that was a marvelous idea and set up camp. Tomorrow, they were determined to descend a level.

* * *

><p>Altariel woke up and saw that Sam was already up and was busy cooking breakfast. She yawned and rose from her makeshift bed, causing Sam to turn towards her. "Glad to see that you are awake, Altariel. Can I call you that?" he asked nervously. Altariel yawned again.<p>

"Of course, Sam. There's no need to stick to formality while we are on the run."

"Good," he said cheerfully. "Well breakfast is ready. Eat, and then tell me what you might have figured out."

Sam turned out to be a good cook even going by Hobbit standards, which meant that the meal Altariel eat could have been something served in Valmar. She ate rapidly, not having had anything to eat since last night. Sam, if possible, ate even faster, since as far as he was concerned missing a meal was coming close to starvation. Once, they were finished, Altariel filled him in on her suspicions about the source of the problem being Angmar.

Sam was doubtful, to say the least. "The Witch-King is dead, Altariel. Merry saw him die with his own eyes. Angmar can't be the source of our problems."

Altariel was stubborn and refused to let up. "What if he wasn't the only thing at Angmar, though? What if there was something else there that was leading him and letting him do all the work? That thing might still be there. I have a suspicion that whatever's there is making people commit those murders. I'm also willing to bet it sent those assassins after us."

Sam wasn't wavering. "All this is just your suspicion, though. I have no one of knowing if this is true. I can't do anything based off this information."

Altariel sat in silence, knowing that he was right. Then, she had an idea. "What if we went to Angmar," she suggested. "Then we could find out for certain."

"That seems pretty dangerous to me," said Sam. "The only weapon we have is your sword."

Altariel got angry. "Are you implying that my sword and my skills aren't enough to keep us safe? This sword is an elven one, and one of the best at that. Celembrimbor himself forged it. And I am one of the best swordfighters in the North."

Sam cowered a bit under her wrath. "All right, all right, I didn't mean to insult you. We can go up there right now if it makes you feel so much better, then."

Altariel nodded in satisfaction. "Good."

They left the safe house, which Altariel made sure was locked up tight. They then began the trip north to Carn Dûm; the capitol of Angmar Altariel knew that it would be a long journey to the North, so she made sure to bring plenty of supplies. Even then, they came very close to running low on food.

The weather was also very, very cold, which meant that they had to build large fires in order to survive the night. Travel was made difficult by the many snows that fell, and by the bitter cold. Luckily, Altariel had also thought to bring several layers of clothing for both of them, or they would have perished along the way.

Several times they encountered marauding bands of orcs, which Altariel took as a further sign that her suspicions were correct. The largest of these bands had twenty orcs, and even had a few cave trolls, but she still defeated them easily. With her sword in her hand, nothing could stop her. Everything seemed to move slowly for her, and she could easily see the flaws and weaknesses in others. She felt sure that she could've taken out over a hundred orcs if given the proper motivation. When she tried to explain this to Sam, he expressed doubts.

"I'm sure you feel that way, but in reality you were just lucky all the orcs had swords and that their leader died first. Without him, no one ordered them to attack you, so they pretty much just perished one by one. You ought to be more careful next time."

"Sam, I appreciate your concern, but I know what I'm doing," was her only response. For the most part, they were too focused on surviving to talk except for when they absolutely had to.

The only other time besides then that they encountered human life was a traveling merchant who was desperately heading south to find a better climate and someone to sell his wares to. He was better informed of the situation to the south than they were, surprisingly. Things had apparently gotten much worse there. Arvegil had taken complete command, using his soldiers to police Arnor. Despite this, the killings were becoming more frequent and Arvegil's attempts at covering them up were beginning to fail.

Meanwhile, the Shire was thrown into panic as not only were the murders increasing there as well, but also with Sam missing only the Thain was keeping order and that wasn't enough. All this was more than enough motivation for Altariel to solve the problem.

Finally, Altariel could see it. It was less than a mile a way from them. The ruins of Carn Dûm towered over the rest of the landscape. Even though it had been abandoned for millennia and had been forced to endure some of the harshest weather on the planet, it still rose proud and tall above the rest of the landscape. Sam and Altariel camped outside for the night, ready to enter it and discover what was going on in the morning.

However, before they could fall asleep, they heard the baying of wargs and saw several silhouettes dart out of the ruins. "Stay down," Altariel told Sam. "I'll handle this."

She leapt up, sword in hand, and charged the wargs. Although they were huge, monstrous, snarling versions of wolves, she had no problem darting around them and killing them and their riders. She was also able to take out the two score orcs sent against them. Altariel felt exhilarated. Never before had she had the opportunity to prove her worth like this. She was high on bloodlust and rage.

She approached the captain of the squad of orcs, expecting that she would end him easily. She swung her sword at him, but to her shock rather than things slowing down for her, they stayed at the same speed as the captain blocked her swing. She grinned. Her was a worthy challenge at last. Her foe moved as fast as her, if not faster. However, Altariel's superior skills and blade were forcing the captain back, and clearly giving her the upper hand.

However, one thing that Altariel lacked was knowledge of the terrain. The orc, who could see perfectly well in the twilight, maneuvered her so that they were in a rough and uneven section of the plains. Although she tried her best to keep her footing, she eventually went down.

The orc stood over her, laughing with jubilant triumph. Suddenly, his laughter was cut short and the orc toppled over onto the ground, dead. Standing behind him was Sam, clutching a dagger that was glowing bright blue. Altariel immediately recognized the dagger as Sting, the sword that Bilbo and Frodo had carried on their travels.

"I told you," he said, but the smile on his face told Altariel that he was just glad she was safe.

"You were right, Sam. I apologize for my arrogance. Now, how about we get some well-deserved sleep, aye?"

Sam yawned. "Sounds like a plan to me," and fell asleep almost right away. Altariel stayed awake a little longer, worried about what was going to happen within Carn Dûm tomorrow, but eventually retreated from the waking world.

* * *

><p>Mermacil was still exhausted when Elarë finally shook him awake. "Wake up, fearless leader. It's time for us to keep moving." Mermacil groaned, but knew that he would have to get up eventually. The others were already up and had seen that Benethro had enough supplies and was in good health before seeing him off. They had a quick morning meal and were soon well on their way.<p>

"Okay, so let me get this straight," said Hannish as they walked. "Our new plan is to head to Nurn, where Kith'tar's contacts will hopefully tell us more about why the orcs are here than just "there's a presence."

"That's pretty much it," Mermacil responded. "Once we have enough information, we return to Faramir and report it all back to him."

"So, we are not engaging?" Lt. Samnon asked. Mermacil thought he heard a slight hint of disappointment.

"Are you crazy?!" the other four shouted at him.

"We'd hardly make a dent in their army," responded Mermacil.

"We'd be killed in seconds," said Hannish.

"We'd never get any information back to Faramir," said Elarë.

"The orcs would probably spare one of us and torture him or her for information," Kith'tar said, thinking up the grimmest scenario possible.

Mermacil stared at Kith'tar briefly, then continued on. "In other words, no."

Lt. Samnon held up his hands in a signal of surrender. "Hey, I was just curious."

They continued on at the same pace for several days. They had entered Nurn by this time, but after the War the majority of the population had retreated further away from Gorgoroth, so it would likely still be a few days before they encountered anyone.

Mermacil looked over his shoulder when he thought he noticed something odd. "Hey, does anyone else see that dust cloud over there?" he asked. The others turned around.

"I see," Kith'tar said. "I wonder what could be causing it?"

"Orcs," said Hannish. "They've finally caught up with us."

"All of them?" asked Elarë.

"Unlikely," said Kith'tar. "Judging by the size of the dust plume, there's around two hundred of them. Sending all of their forces would require far too much planning and time, and would be like using a battering ram to cut open an apple. By sending a small squad they can move much faster while still having enough numbers to destroy us and prevent information about them from spreading. Clearly, whoever is in charge has a better grasp of tactics than Sauron did."

"Now do we engage?" asked Lt. Samnon.

"Negative," Mermacil replied. "Now is the time were we run!"

The group took off, heading further into Nurn. The orcs were still a good day or two away from them, but Mermacil knew how enduring orcs were. He knew that if they didn't get a good lead, the orcs would easily outpace them. While they wouldn't be able to run all day like Uruk-Hai, they could still run much faster and for much longer. Mermacil could only hope that they would find protection before the orcs found them.

* * *

><p>Tu-Ankh woke Telimperion up with a kiss. She stirred and was about to fall back asleep again when he kissed her a second time. She giggled and opened her eyes, awake for real this time. Then she realized where she was. "Why are we in bed together?" she asked. Tu-Ankh leaned back, surprised by her seriousness. "Nothing happened," he said. "We fell asleep tog-" he broke off when he saw that Telimperion had begun to sob loudly.<p>

"What's the matter, Tel?" he asked gently.

Between sobs, Telimperion replied. "We can't be together."

Tu-Ankh was somewhat taken aback. "Why ever not? Was it something I did?"

Telimperion shook her head. "No. It's…It's t-that I'm married."

Tu-Ankh was shocked. "You are? You never told me!"

"It never came up in conversation. Also, I don't often think of Torenor because he is away so often."

"Doesn't sound like you love him very much then," Tu-Ankh replied.

"No, I don't," Telimperion replied honestly. "He doesn't love me much either. He married me because I had the most lands of any of the unmarried women of the Vale. I married him because he actually respected as a decent human being, unlike all the other men. Love entered into it little."

"Than why can't we be together," Tu-Ankh replied despairingly. "You are the only person who I ever really been able to connect to!"

"Because a promise is a promise!" Telimperion snapped at him. "Maybe now that I know you I can divorce him and marry you. Until then, we are not together!"

There was an uncomfortable silence that lingered in the room for several unendurable minutes. Finally, Tu-Ankh spoke again. "Telimperion, I apologize for my behavior. It was wrong of me to act against your wishes and I hope you forgive me. This will hardly be the first set back that I have experienced in my long life, and I doubt it will be the last."

Telimperion gave him a shaky smile. "I forgive you," she said, holding out her hand.

Tu-Ankh smiled back. "Thank you. Now, speaking of my long life, I have a few other leads to try out. Minas Tirith is a melting pot of other cultures and races. I have three potential leads. The first lead is that we seek out the Elves living within the city. We can ask them about the Shapet to see if they know anything. Even if they don't, they might now something about what was done to me. Failing that, the Elves are said to be great healers. Perhaps they can fix me.

"The second lead is we find a cult of Kirran worshippers in the city. There should be at least one cult that worships someone like Xulping that grants healing abilities. If we can find one of them, then they can heal me.

"Lastly, and most dangerously, we find an actual necromancer. If we can somehow compel them to help us, they can almost certainly unbind my soul. What do you think?

Telimperion considered the options for a bit, then responded, "Finding a cult will take a lot of time, and finding the right one will take even longer. That's assuming that they want to help us, of course. Finding a necromancer will be exponentially harder and it will also be even harder to convince them or survive. I say we go with the Elves first."

"Good idea. Let's go!"

* * *

><p>A loud knocking on their front door awaked Aulenmir, Noldolma, Peladin, and Sirilfa. Aulenmir hurried over to the front door and opened it. Standing there was a short Ephûl messenger. "The time had came," he said. Aulenmir stared at him. "Give me a few minutes," he said urgently.<p>

The messenger looked at him suspiciously. "Very well," he allowed grudgingly. Aulenmir closed the door, turned around, and whispered hurriedly to the children, silencing their inquiring cries.

"All right, I don't have very long to explain. I am going to be leaving with that man and joining the Ephûl for a brief period of time. Luckily, because of our recent trip there is still plenty of food here. Just remember what you did last time I was away. Also, the Ephûl left us some meat last night, so you two should be set for the next week. The snares are unset, but two smart children like you should be able to figure out how to reset them."

Sirilfa was sobbing openly, and Peladin had tears in his eyes. "Please, Unca, don't leave," Sirilfa cried.

Aulenmir hugged both of them and smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I have to. However, I _will_ return. You have my word," he promised. Then, before they could say anything else, he opened the door, stepped outside, and shut it once again.

He turned to the messenger. "Now, tell me, why has my promise been called in?"

The messenger shook his head. "I can't tell you."

Aulenmir frowned. "Why not?" he asked, raising his voice.

The messenger stood firm and resolute. "We must leave at once. The reason that your promise has been called in is a most urgent one, and we have very little time. We must run!" He began to do so, and Aulenmir realized that if he wanted to get answers, his only choice was to follow the messenger.

For such a short man the messenger was surprisingly fast. He was also much better at going uphill than Aulenmir was, but that was to be expected. The man had lived in the mountains his entire life, after all. They kept on running through the entire morning. Although his entire body wanted to collapse, every time Aulenmir thought about stopping he looked towards the messenger and was inspired by his example to keep running.

Eager to do anything to distract his mind from his exhaustion, Aulenmir ventured to start a conversation with his companion. Between breaths, he panted out the question, "What is your name?"

The messenger gave him a brief glance before turning away and replying, "My name is Paung." Before Aulenmir could ask him another question, Paung said, "looks like we are here."

Relieved to be able to stop, Aulenmir collapsed to the ground. Water was brought to him and he was carried over to where Jamai's tent still was. Jamai was sitting on the ground outside of his tent. "Rest up, my friend. Drink, eat, and then listen, for what we are about to do is quite possibly the most important thing you will ever do in your entire life."

Privately, Aulenmir doubted that last statement very much. However, he said nothing and did as he was told. Once he had restored his vitality and was able to concentrate and think, Jamai began to speak.

"We have been receiving disturbing reports of Orcish activity in these mountains for the past few months," he began. He smiled wryly upon seeing Aulenmir's shock. "I said they were disturbing, didn't I? Anyway, I have brought you here to recruit you. Tomorrow, we are gonna fight ourselves some orcs."


	12. Chapter 11

_I fell asleep at my usual time tonight, after my usual activities and schedule, after a completely normal day. However, tonight was like nothing I have ever seen. I awoke from my deep sleep to find that I was no longer in my bed but in the palace library._

_The palace library is by far the largest library in existence upon Arda. The library could pose as an entire lesser palace on its own. There are hundreds of rooms, and at least five floors. Most of our greatest architectural knowledge comes from trying to create this building and the many wonders we discovered in doing so._

_The library is said to contain hundreds of thousands of books, scrolls, pamphlets, and engravings, if not millions. One could spend a lifetime reading the books in one small section alone, and there are hundreds of them. The many rooms and antechambers make the building almost labyrinth like, and if one doesn't want to be found, the library is the best place to go. I half suspect that all of Ar-Pharazôn's political enemies hide down there, knowing there is no way for them to ever be uncovered._

_The first, and yet least strange thing I noticed is that I was in a note-taking room in the library. I had no idea were I was or how to get out of the library. However, I refused to let myself panic. There was no way that I would live all these years simply to die after starving to death in a library!_

_The next strangest thing was the books that I was looking at. I remember the titles perfectly, despite the number of them. They have burned into my memory by the events of tonight. I was looking at the following books: _Tales of Barish, The Honor of a Nomad, The Priest of Gonar'kai, Elrond Half-Elven: Traitor or Savior, The Life and Times of a Confessed Saint, The Art of the Blood, Why are the Family Still Here?, and Who is the Man Inside the Gauntlet?. _I had never seen any of these titles before in my life, and I was ignorant of their content until tonight. In order that I listed them, the books seemed to be about: the city of Barish, a story of a man wandering a vast desert encountering strange humanoid beasts, a priest of a false god, a book about Elrond, of all people, A book about what appeared to be Finarfin, a pamphlet asking for the destruction of a family called the "Brannonions", and at last a biography of one who I think is Sauron._

_Weirdest of all with regards to the books, I could not tell whether these books told truth or fiction. For all I knew, the books were the writing of delusional madmen. Another oddity, by the way: none of the books had any authors listed. As a matter of fact, there was almost no information listed about these books, not even in the information cards in the section they should have been filed in, if they were ever filed there at all._

_However the strangest thing I found was the notes that I was taking. Even looking at them now, they still make no sense to me, and I cannot understand what the books that I was looking at had to do with it. I have reproduced the statements that I apparently wrote in the following section._

_#1: This monster stalks the under depths of the grand city, stealing the lives of others. It cares not for the soul, only to devour and destroy. And though the primes and the light gather to destroy it, they shall fail unless they discover the nature of the beast._

_#2: This monster hides not, but flaunts its power upon the fields of fire dead. It is the only one of its brethren who seeks to restore the Master, but its efforts are in vain, for it has not the power. Scroll, sword, cloak, diamond, and the son of the prince shall he destroy unless [this part was written illegibly]_

_#3: This beast stalks the ruins of the cold city, seeking to drive out those who would remind it of its ward's failure. Although it haunts the minds of others, the works of the elder children shall soon drive it out._

_I was eventually able to make my way out of the library and back into my quarters, where I worked as hard as possible to reproduce the events of tonight. As best I can judge, I experienced some sort of premonition. I shall not speak to anyone of this, only to my Journal_

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>Aulenmir was taken aback by Jamai's statement. "Recruit me?" he asked incredulously, astounded at Jamai's request. "Surely, you must not mean this. I am no fighter. I have begun to grow to old. My bones ache far more than most men my age. I have not held a sword since—since I came to these mountains." He came so close to revealing his secrets then. Jamai's proclamation must have truly unnerved him.<p>

Jamai smiled, but there was no humor in his look. "I rarely ever joke on the eve of war, my friend. You have been wielding a bow for over a decade now. You are stronger than you ever were before. Even if somehow you could not be taught to wield a sword, or even a spear, your archery would be useful."

Aulenmir frowned. "I swore that I would never take the life of another sentient being. You are asking me to undo a large part of my soul."

"What may happen if I do not gather all the men I can would be far worse. These orcs intend to carve out a kingdom for themselves in our lands. Elessar may call them his lands, but they have been ours for longer and he has no use to them, nor will he rush to defend them if we ask.

"If we do not fight, the Ered Nimrais will become the playground of these orcs, of these Keraq'ar. And if the Ephûl fall, what will become of the Vale?" Jamai shook his head. "We must fight, or else we will all fall."

Aulenmir desperately thought for a way out. He did not want to have to take another life, no matter what the cost to others would be. "Is there some way I can call off the deal? I can give you back your meat and ask for no more in the future. I'll even hunt for you."

Before he had even finished, Jamai was shaking his head. "Impossible, I am afraid. Even if I wanted to also back out of these deal-and as you may have noticed I do not-you have already cost my men a great amount of effort. Any way that you could make it back to us besides fighting will become worthless if we are all slaughtered." Jamai grimaced.

"Also, it would do well for others to believe that they could simply back out of deals that they found to be unsatisfactory in the end. If you were to back out…well, I'm afraid that there would be some consequences involved for you and your family."

Aulenmir froze and stared and Jamai in shock. "You would dare threaten my family," he began angrily. Before he could go on, Jamai raised a hand. I tire of this pointless arguing. Jejo, Fermi, please take Aulenmir to the archery pit."

Aulenmir stood up to follow the two men. Before he left, he turned around to talk to Jamai one more time. "We were always on such good terms with each other whenever we met. What changed?"

Jamai looked at him sadly. "The world is always changing, my old friend. I must change with it, or be left in its wake. I hope for your sake that you change too."

Aulenmir clenched his hands at hearing Jamai call him "old friend" again. "I will not forget this," he began. "When this is over, we will no longer be friends."

Jamai raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He clapped his hands together once. "Well, off with you now."

Aulenmir followed the two men willingly, though he seethed with rage inwardly. He resolved that while he would still uphold his end of the bargain, he was only doing so because he did not want to become lower than Jamai. Aulenmir was also beginning to consider the possibility that the Keraq'ar were a legitimate threat. An orc invasion larger than any since the War itself would destabilize the fragile young Reunited Kingdom.

Aulenmir was almost a little shocked by the timing of it. Had the Keraq'ar invaded but a few years earlier, King Elessar might not have had as many troops attempting to keep peace in Arnor. Had they arrived a few years later, the realm might have already solidified itself again. Aulenmir tabled that thought, saving worrying about it for another time.

He released some of his anger at the archery pit. Aulenmir shot quite well considering his was over forty and only used the bow for an hour at best each day. He was even able to outshoot many of the Ephûl. Perhaps Jamai did have a good reason for picking him, although Aulenmir doubted that he would turn the tide of a battle. Looking around, he noticed that the camp was far busier than usual.

"What's going on?" he asked Fermi, who was still escorting him.

"What you mean?" he said in a low voice. Fermi was clearly not in often contact with Gondorians; his Westron was harsh and broken.

"Why are there so many more people?"

"War coming. Calling in other camps."

_That's interesting_, though Aulenmir. He had believed that this camp was the only Ephûl camp. He saw now that he had been deliberately mislead to conceal the true strength of the Ephûl. He wondered what else had been hidden from him. _Was Jamai ever true?_ He thought despairingly.

After spending the entire afternoon practicing, Aulenmir joined the other Ephûl for an evening meal. However, he rebuffed all attempts at conversation and was engrossed in his own thoughts. He realized that the Ephûl, who could not control their leader, did not deserve his cold demeanor and began to open up a bit.

When he talked with the Ephûl, he was able to learn several things. He learned that diplomatic relations had originally been established with the Keraq'ar, but for unknown reasons the Keraq'ar slaughtered their diplomats. He also learned that several border patrols had been found dead after extending onto Keraq'ar land. A very important thing he learned was that two other tribes of orcs were also inhabiting the Ered Nimrais, but were much small and were not as hostile.

Aulenmir started to realize that Jamai might have more than one reason to go after the Keraq'ar. It seemed that the Keraq'ar had killed many of his people, and Jamai was certainly thirsting for revenge. Aulenmir felt even worse about being forced to join Jamai's cause. Even though it could be considered entirely just, Aulenmir had sworn not to fight another man again, and that was what he wished to do.

However, it appeared that he would not have much in the way of a choice. After the meal was over, Aulenmir declined the offers of company and a place around the fire pits and returned to his tent. He slept fitfully, uneasy with what he would be doing the next day.

* * *

><p>Aulenmir woke up early despite his like of sleep and went to the archery pit to practice his archery more. An Ephûl woman was practicing there as well.<p>

"Hello, Aulenmir!" she called to him.

Aulenmir raised an eyebrow. "How do you know my name?" he replied.

The woman smiled. "Is common knowledge. Only tark in camp." She paused for a moment, considering something, then laughed. "Will make fair. My name Daliza."

Aulenmir smiled back. Usually, once you earned the trust of one of the Ephûl, they treated with warmth and respect, as if you were one of their own. Of course, conflicts undoubtedly arose more easily between friendly outsiders and the Ephûl, but Aulenmir wondered if that was the fault of the former group, not the later. In any case, he had no intention of offending the Ephûl, with the exception of Jamai.

"Hello, Daliza. Why did you call out to me?" he wondered aloud.

"Saw archery. Wanted to help."

Aulenmir hesitated. "I appreciate your offer, but-"

Daliza cut him off. "Oh no. Was no offer. You need help."

Aulenmir blushed embarrassedly. Surely he wasn't that bad! Daliza marched over to him and began to correct some of the things he was doing wrong. Aulenmir was quite able to master everything that she was telling him, but he was making significant progress. Suddenly, a loud horn blew, signaling for them to gather around the now-extinguished fire pits

Jamai was standing on top of a large rock that had been brought to the pits for that purpose. Although everyone was chatting loudly as he first approached, when he raised a hand the Ephûl fell silent at once. Aulenmir rarely saw such discipline outside of armies. Jamai waited a few more seconds, and then began to speak in a tone that was soft, yet penetrating. Although Aulenmir could not understand his speech, Daliza was kind enough to translate for him.

"My people, today we gather to launch a war. This will not be like other wars that we have fought before. Those wars we fought for land, or for food, or even, during some of our darker days, for fun. No, this war is different. At last, we are pitted against a foe that is willing to expend all their resources, unlike the Gondorians. At last, we stand against an enemy that needs our land to live, unlike the wasteful tribes to the West.

"The Keraq'ar are dangerous. We cannot underestimate them. Already, they have killed over two score of our people because they were unprepared for what they could do. We will learn from their mistakes, though. Today, we fight without mercy, even without honor if we must. The Keraq'ar will exterminate us-will exterminate everyone if we do not. So, show me that you are ready, my people. Show me your _tapanu_!"

All of the Ephûl roared with vigor. Even Aulenmir, filled with his disgust for the upcoming war, began screaming with all his pride. Jamai began to walk off to the East purposefully, and the screaming Ephûl followed him. Despite their frenzied screeching, the Ephûl marched in an orderly fashion and were ready for battle a moments notice.

They marched for a surprisingly short amount of time before stopping. Aulenmir couldn't tell the exact time because the sun was obscured behind several thick clouds, as was the rest of the sky. However, Jamai called for the Ephûl to halt. It was not difficult to determine why. Covering the plains in front of the Ephûl were the Keraq'ar. Aulenmir had never actually seen an orc up close. The tales that he had heard of them had made him expect something misshapen and monstrous. Aulenmir was surprised to see that aside from their somewhat smaller height and a few other minor physical differences, the orcs looked just like any other man.

The Ephûl and the Keraq'ar stared each other down, as though they were trying to intimidate each other out of this battle. Aulenmir could see the hatred that each bore for the other. He also saw the immense determination that they both had. Suddenly, without any kind of warning, the two armies launched into action and began the fiercest battle either of them had fought in their entire lives. And Aulenmir, despite himself, notched an arrow and pulled back the bowstring. The first few flakes of snow began to fall around him.

* * *

><p>The door closed in his face. Peladin turned around, sat down, and began to cry. How could they survive without Aulenmir? And even if they could, what would they do without him, without his stories? Peladin, of course, was thinking for Sirilfa. He didn't know what she'd do without Aulenmir.<p>

Peladin had long since revised his original opinion of Aulenmir. When he and Sirilfa had first arrived at his cabin, Aulenmir had not impressed him at all. The man hardly seemed to care for anything or anyone except himself. However, once Peladin got to know him he realized that he did care, but he tried not to show it. Aulenmir expressed himself best through his stories.

Noldolma, seeing Peladin's distress, came over to him and began to vigorously like his face. Despite his stress, he laughed and hugged Noldolma. She went over to Sirilfa next and licked her too. Then she turned around and looked at both of them, wagging her tail as she did so.

"Pel," Sirilfa said quietly, "I think she wants us to follow her."

Peladin looked closely at Noldolma. It did almost seem as though she was trying to get them to go after her. He hesitantly took a step towards her and was rewarded by seeing her get up and walk forward. He moved faster and continued to follow her, eager to see what she was leading them to.

He found out soon enough. Noldolma lead Peladin and Sirilfa over to a bookshelf that Peladin didn't remember seeing before. Peladin didn't recognize any of the words on the covers of the books and deduced that they were all books written in other languages. He didn't see why Noldolma was leading them over there until Sirilfa helped.

"Look, Pel!" she said, pointing to a scrap of paper resting on the bookshelf. Peladin picked it up and gasped with shock.

"It's a letter from Aulenmir!" he cried.

Sirilfa's eyes widened. "What's it say?" she begged.

Peladin squinted at the letter, making sure he was reading it right, and then began to read the letter aloud,

_Dear Peladin and Sirilfa,_

_ If you have found this letter, then I have left you unexpectedly and Noldolma has led you to this letter (make sure you tell her that she's a good dog!) First, do not worry; I assure you that I will return. Your mother would kill me if I didn't; that much is certain!_

_ Second, hopefully the Ephûl have delivered the meat like promised. If they have, they should have given you plenty to survive on until I return. If not, you may have to consist off of bread and vegetables. That is, unless you get the snares working, which I am convinced that you could do._

Peladin paused in his reading. "I don't remember the Ephûl delivering any meat. Do you?"

"Unca said they delivered it last night," Sirilfa said confidently. "Its probably in the meat freezer."

Peladin nodded. "That makes sense. Well, that's one less thing we have to worry about."

"That's great. Now, continue reading!" Peladin rolled his eyes at Sirilfa and continued.

_Last, since I am no longer around to tell you a story, you will have to rely on one of my books. On the main bookshelf near the table, there is a book called "The Brannonion Family History". In here you will find a description of how we are related, fairly closely to Aldarion himself._

With love, Aulenmir

Peladin grinned. Even when Aulenmir was away, he was looking out for them. Now they had a plan that they could follow and something to look forward to. Peladin assumed command. "All right, here's what we are going to do for the rest of the day. We are going to cut wood to keep the fire going. We can pause at around noon to have a look at some of that meat, but that's all."

Surprisingly, Sirilfa complied without a single complaint, justified or otherwise. They managed to get a surprising amount of wood cut in one day, especially considering their small physiques. Peladin suspected that Sirilfa was so preoccupied by Aulenmir's leaving that she couldn't be bothered to complain or dawdle. He'd heard worse theories before.

After they eat dinner (and they had successfully been able to find the meat), Peladin got out the book that Aulenmir had mentioned and started to read. The book was really nothing more than a notebook. It appeared that Aulenmir had handwritten the story himself. Peladin was willing to guess that it was based off of earlier research. Peladin, unconsciously copying Aulenmir, cleared his throat and tried to read as much like Aulenmir as he could.

It is not easy to be the second child of a family. I believe this to be a true statement almost anywhere, regardless of class or location. However, for those in higher classes, being a second child is probably worse. For, you see, while the first child is the primary inheritor of the family, and the other children will almost certainly be doted on and given important positions, the second child is neither doted on, nor will they inherit will.

There are a few exceptions, such as Anarion, the second son of Elendil. Despite not being the first son, he still and his heirs ruled an entire kingdom while Isildur and his heirs ruled another, although it ended up being an heir of Isildur, King Elessar Telcontar, that reunited the two. Another exception are Elrond and Elros, who both became great men independent of the other's successes.

The second child that concerns us today is Isilmë, second daughter of Tar-Elendil. The first daughter of Tar-Elendil, Silmarien, is usually better remembered for having her right to the throne denied on the basis of her sex and for being the direct ancestor of Elendil, the man who would become King of Arnor and Gondor. The first son, Tar-Meneldur, is usually better remembered for having become King and being the farther of Tar-Aldarion, whom you have been learning about.

Indeed, it could definitely be said that Isilmë did very little during her lifetime, aside from write a collection of poems that were, tragically, lost during the Downfall. However, there is one very important thing that she did in relation to our family, and that was to have a child. The child was a girl, named Aglarizimril. Aglarizimril, if possible, did even less that marks her as notable aside from propagating the family line. Her only child, a boy named Miniltârik, was very much the same. And so, throughout the generations, Isilmë's family line survived.

The nobility of Númenor consists of the descendants of Elros, those who are considered immensely rich, or those who were granted a title by the King. As the daughter of a King, Isilmë would have been considered as a Princess. However, as time went on and her family line grew further apart from the King's (and as the number of nobles swelled), their status as nobles would have decreased. They would have technically been in line for succession, but if enough people died to make them the ruling family, there was probably some sort of apocalypse occurring.

The descendants of Isilmë essentially faded into obscurity, becoming minor barons and the like. The majority of them tried to hold close to Silmarien's descendants, with the end result being that many of the Faithful were related to at least one of the two sisters. (For those curious, Silmarien's descendants were continuously given the title "Lord of Andúnië, allowing them to stay higher in the noble pecking order. It helped that they married closer to the throne several times)

By searching through records of the Faithful that were present on Elendil's seven ships, I have determined that one of Isilmë's descendants, named Zainabên II, was on board one of Anarion's ships at the time. He settled in Minas Tirith, married a girl that caught his eye and ended up fighting in the Last Alliance against Sauron. By some miracle, he survived that war and returned home after many years. He was well rewarded for his bravery by being given a relatively large pension.

Many years later, during the Kin-strife, the head of the family, a man, by curious coincidence, named Aldarion, decided to flee Castamir's cruel rule and support King Eldacar. By a stroke of luck, he saved Eldacar's life during one of the many battles of the Kin-strife and was rewarded with a barony out in the present-day Vale.

For many more generations, Aldarion and his descendants ruled over their barony well. However, when the Wainriders attacked for the second time, the people of Khand and Near Harad attacked the Vale, causing death and destruction, confusion and delay. In the Aftermath, only one man from Isilmë's family escaped. This man was named Abattazîr. Sadly, Abattazîr's rightful barony was given to a man who had proven his bravery in the battle in Northern Ithilien, and Abattazîr was forced to live under his rule. Ever since, Abattazîr's descendants have lived and worked in the Vale until very recently.

Peladin closed the notebook. "Well, how do you think I did?" he asked eagerly.

Sirilfa made a face. "Next time, leave the story telling to Aulenmir."

Peladin grew somber. "I hope he comes back soon."

Reaching up, Sirilfa put her hand on his shoulder for comfort. "Me too," she whispered softly. Together, they went to bed.

* * *

><p>Telimperion and Tu-Ankh went around Minas Tirith while they searched for the Elves. For whatever reason, their seemed to be a strong anti-Elvish sentiment prevailing in the city, and it was difficult to find anyone willing to associate themselves with the Elves. The few who were willing to speak only knew that the Elves were keeping themselves in the shadows and currently did not wish to interact with the outside world at all. Another obstacle was that the Elves usually stayed outside of Minas Tirith entirely when they could, only entering when they needed to buy something or speak with the King or the dwarves.<p>

Finally, they found a vendor who was willing to reveal the location of a group of the Elves. He forced them to buy one of his cabbages first, but once he did so he told them that the Elves were hiding close to the Houses of Healing. Tu-Ankh and Telimperion grinned at each other. At least they could find that area easily enough.

It took them several hours to get there, as Telimperion and Tu-Ankh were in no rush. When they finally got to the Elves' location, they knocked on the door, but got no reply.

Tu-Ankh called to see if there was anyone in the building. "Hello? Is there anyone at home? We're friendly, I swear by Elbereth!"

It wasn't until he mentioned Elbereth that the door opened and a small looking elf peered out. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed. "Well, if you're going to shout our location to the entire block unless we let you in, you may as well come inside."

Smiling thankfully, Telimperion and Tu-Ankh allowed themselves to be lead in side. The building had surprisingly little space and Tu-Ankh and Telimperion felt a little crammed inside the little area.

One of the elves spoke. "Welcome, Elf-friends. What is it that we may help you with?"

With a chance to be rid of his curse so close, Tu-Ankh forgot all forms of propriety. "What do you know of the Shapet?" he blurted out. He closed his mouth hastily after his outburst and his face reddened, but he did not retract his question.

The elf who had spoken earlier frowned. "The who?" He blinked and then blushed slightly. "Excuse me, I am forgetting my manners. I am Baidhrif, leader of the Expedition from Eryn Lasgalen. Our mission here is to learn of the ways of the Gondorians and help them as we may. With me here are Ivorchu, our gardener and herbalist who welcomed you earlier, Rengwil, my mate and our best healer, Arodrad, our scribe, Síthiel, our warrior, and Gwennedil, Rengwil's apprentice." Baidhrif pointed to each of the Elves he named.

"One of our group, Raudael, is not with us right now. She is our liaison with the King and she is currently speaking with him. Another elf, Helgalad, is also not with us. She is our cook and is being supplies at the market.

Telimperion frowned. "That's a lot of you. How do you all fit inside this small building?"

Baidhrif pointed behind himself. "Behind us we have a few more rooms such as a kitchen, a room of bunks, and a sitting area. Although we have had to find slightly less glamorous surroundings than we've had the past, the level of aggression many Gondorians seem to hold toward us makes it a necessity."

Tu-Ankh spoke again. "Why are the Gondorians persecuting you?"

It was Ivorchu who spoke this time. "They are looking for someone to blame. Bad rumors are coming from the south and we make a convenient scapegoat."

"Plus," Rengwil interjected, "Many Gondorians are unused to interacting with elves and until recently an elf this far south would have been a once in a lifetime occurrence. Some wish things stayed that way."

"That is troubling," said Telimperion. "I feel sorry for your plight."

Rengwil smiled softly. "It is all right. We still have the opportunity to help many and report back to King Thranduil, so it has all worked out for the best. Speaking of which, now that we all know each other I am sure we can help you with your request."

Tu-Ankh nodded. "Forgive me for my haste earlier," he apologized. "I was using terms that were undoubtedly unfamiliar to you, since they come from a long dead language. Many thousands of years ago, there was a group of Elves that broke away from the rest and terrorized the minor kingdoms of Eriador. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about here?"

While the other elves exchanged puzzled glances, Arodrad spoke. "You will have to forgive my colleagues; they are not students of history, unlike myself. I am aware of the elves you speak of. In the early days of the Second Age, a few Noldor believed that many of Morgoth's servants had escaped his fall and would rebuild and attack the free world once again. Swearing that they would do all they could to prevent this, they lead a group of Sindar and Avari on a vast project to create weapons that could be used to fight Sauron and his allies.

"The most common rumors told are regarding artifacts such as magic swords and primitive versions of the Rings of Power. Most of these artifacts were probably far weaker than has been said, losing their powers after only a few decades. However, some weapons may have kept their powers for far longer. Elven artificers have always been rather talented, as creations as grand as the Silmarils and as minor as Sting show. This was merely an extension of that ability.

However, in their quest for protection, these elves lost their way. They began capturing and experimenting on humans, although not enough study has been done to conclude exactly what was done. Around this time the humans of Eriador, enraged at the behavior of the elves, rose against them and slaughtered them, almost to the man. I believe a few of them escaped and started over in Eregion, though they were certainly slain there."

Tu-Ankh was silent for a few moments, then said, "thank you, that was enormously helpful." He paused, considering what he was about to reveal, then said, "I am the last of those men that they captured."

The elves looked at him in shock as Tu-Ankh related his story, finishing by saying, "so I decided to come here to find out some more history and see if you could heal me."

Rengwil gestured for Tu-Ankh to come over to her. "I am going to see what has been done to you to confirm Ionath's diagnosis, though I am almost certain it is correct." She placed her hands upon Tu-Ankh's brow and stared into his eyes. After about a minute, she released him, nodding gravely.

"He is correct. I fear that the only way to help you would be for a necromancer to sever the connection between your spirit and body. I cannot do that, as my powers cannot touch the spirit. I am sorry for my failure."

"Don't be," said Tu-Ankh. "I now understand more of why they made me like this. I was meant to be a weapon against the armies of Sauron. Since I do not die, his orcs would have been unable to kill me."

"You were probably only the beginning," said Síthiel, speaking up for the first time.

"What do you mean?"

"While you are nigh invulnerable, you are only as powerful as any other man. It would be a simple matter to subdue you, and then take you to Sauron, where you could be bent to his will. Undoubtedly they were also seeking ways to strengthen you in mind and in body beyond what had already been done to you."

Tu-Ankh nodded. "That makes sense. Thank you all very much for the services you have provided," he said politely.

Baidhrif smiled. "Anytime," he said affably.

Telimperion and Tu-Ankh stayed with the elves for a little longer, talking with them. They were still there later when Raudael and Helgalad appeared with the food that they would be eating and wound up being invited to dinner. It was a wonderful night for Tu-Ankh. For once in his life, he would be talking to other people who had lived as long as he had.

Being alive for long periods of time gives one a certain perspective on life. One tends to be more patient, finding it easier to wait long periods when you have an infinite amount of them. Being able to meet others with this perspective was a wonderful feeling for Tu-Ankh. He and the elves were able to talk about all the things about the old world they remembered: the many tribes of men in Middle-earth, the Last Alliance, the times when there was a King of all of Arnor and a King of all of Gondor.

Telimperion mostly sat these discussions out. She had only been alive for a small fraction of the time that the others had; there was no way she could know what they were talking about except for in a distant remote way from the snippets of information she had gleamed from school when she was younger.

Finally, long past sunset, Tu-Ankh and Telimperion finally excused themselves and headed back home. Síthiel agreed to guard them on their way back so that they wouldn't have to worry about footpads and other unsavory elements of the city's nightlife.

"It seems that every day we come a step closer to what we need to do," Telimperion whispered.

"I know," replied Tu-Ankh. "I am trying to decide what our next course of action should be. We obviously need to find a necromancer of some sort, or at least a price. The question is: how do we go about doing that?"

"Well, there should be a section of the city that many Kirranmar have settled in. In an area like that, we're sure to find who we're looking for as far as a priest goes. I recommend we look for the priest first though-the necromancer will be nearly impossible to find."

"That seems like a grand plan," Tu-Ankh said. He paused, and then continued, "Thank you for continuing to help me, Tel."

Telimperion smiled. "No problem, Tu-Ankh. That's what friends are for."

* * *

><p>Running turned out to be a lot harder than Mermacil thought it was going to be. Many years of working only in Minas Ithil had not prepared him for what he was doing currently. Although he had begun to be more active recently, he was still quite out of shape. It wasn't just that he was unused to running in general; he hadn't done much in the way of intensive physical activity in years. Elarë was in a similar position, although she was probably even worse off.<p>

Even Lt. Samnon was beginning to falter after a few hours of running. Mermacil and Elarë were both surprised by this, having assumed that Lt. Samnon's military training had made him more enduring than that. Hannish, however, knew that the Rangers often focused on different skills than physical endurance such as survival, tracking, riding, even languages. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with that; Rangers just had different jobs than other soldiers.

Hannish and Kith'tar were still going strong. Hannish's explanation was that years of serving in the army had made him very enduring. Kith'tar offered no explanation save for his usual excuse of his rough homeland. Mermacil had long ago decided that Nurn wasn't a place that he wanted to visit; yet here he was anyway.

Mermacil sighed, or did his best to do so while running, knowing that Hannish and Kith'tar's speed didn't really matter. Eventually they would all run out of energy and the orcs would catch up to them. Even though the orcs couldn't run during the day like Uruk-Hai, they made up for that by how much they ran during the day. Mermacil supposed that this was logical; Kith'tar said he was strong because Nurn made him that way. Barad-dûr made Nurn look like Rivendell compared with its own hellishness.

For now, the orcs were still a day or two behind. However, Mermacil was certain they would catch up. There was no way they would win against 200 of them, even fighting their very hardest. Even assuming that the orcs were all terrible fighters and all five of them were great fighters, the orcs could either grapple them and swarm them with their superior numbers or they shoot them down with arrows. Mermacil saw no way to win.

Up ahead, Kith'tar stopped his run. "Look over there," he said, pointing to a group of small huts that were clustered together several yards to the right. The group altered their course, heading for the huts. When they reached them, they realized that they had stumbled upon what appeared to be a small village. Several orcs and humans were moving about the village, doing chores and other tasks. Mermacil and the others stopped for a moment to catch their breaths.

A tall, middle-aged orc approached them. She had a badge on her shirt that marked her as some sort of sheriff. "Which one of you is in charge?" she asked.

Mermacil motioned to himself. "I am," he replied.

"Please state your business in Drakarator," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Mermacil hesitated for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts before proceeding. "We are searching for information. We recently discovered a large group of orcs camped on the Plateau of Gorgoroth and I want to know why they are there. In addition, we are fleeing a large group of orcs that is pursuing us."

The sheriff scowled when she heard about the orcs pursuing them. "How far away are these orcs?"

"About a day or two away. We are sorry for bringing them down here but we didn't really have much of another option."

The sheriff waved off his apology. "No matter. What's done is done. I'm Kapagund, by the way. Why don't you come down to my office and we can talk about this?"

"Sounds good to me," said Mermacil. He and the rest of the group followed Kapagund down several streets before reaching a building that seemed larger than the rest. She led them in through the door and down a few hallways before they reached her office. Noticing their looks of puzzlement, she said, "this office serves as the headquarters for the police for every town within a few day's walking distance of her. We get quite a bit of funding compared with some other businesses, so we are able to build a place like this."

"Your law enforcement is privately owned?" asked Hannish.

"There's no central government here to support one," Kith'tar said for Kapagund. "What happens is that several people declare themselves to be a legal authority and enforce that authority. As for as authorities go, having a team of privatized law enforcement is far better than your average despot."

Kapagund looked at Kith'tar strangely. "You are from this area," she said.

Although it wasn't really a question, Kith'tar responded anyway. "Yes. However, I left this region long ago to avoid to war."

Kapagund grunted. "That was a pretty smart decision, as it turned out. Anyway, that's not what we're here for. You want to know what's up with those orcs, huh." The others all nodded. Kapagund continued, "Well, I can tell you, but there will be a price."

Mermacil frowned. "What kind of price?" he asked.

"Each of you will have to truthfully answer a question of mine. And I'm pretty good at reading people, so I'll know if you're not being honest."

Mermacil looked at the rest of his team. They all nodded to indicate their willingness to do that. "We need this information," Elarë said softly.

Looking satisfied, Kapagund began to tell what she knew. "As you are aware, Sauron was defeated by the forces of what is now the Reunited Kingdom around 43 years ago. During this victory, many of his greatest lieutenants, such as the Great orcs and the Nazgûl were defeated. However, Sauron had a few lieutenants that were actually lesser Maia. While these Maia were no were near Sauron's strength—Gandalf the White could have destroyed all of them if he was so inclined—compared to the average person they are still quite powerful."

Kapagund began pacing back in forth in the office, while the others seated themselves on various chairs that were inside. "My best theorists are attempting to determine why these Maia never became balrogs like nearly every other dark Maia that we have encountered. Our best theories are that either these Maia weren't quite powerful enough, or they had powers that were better suited in a different form than that of a balrog.

"Several of these Maia, seeing their master defeated, fled to Valinor and sued for pardon there. It is unknown what their exact fate was. However, at least two of them stayed behind. One of them I know very little of, aside from the fact that it fled north, probably to Angmar. This Maia was the stronger of the two, and also the smarter. It knew not to draw attention to itself like this one has and it knew that staying in Mordor was a bad idea."

Elarë interrupted. "Do you know what the names of these Maia are?"

Kapagund shook her head. "I can't say I do. We have our own names for them: Haihatur and Ushtargijak. However, these are not the names that they have given themselves or that their servants give them. They are insignificant enough that there are no tales of them and I believe they may have been servants of Morgoth nearly from the beginning, so the elves wouldn't have encountered them.

"Anyway, as I was sayin', the other Maia was not so intelligent and remained in Gorgoroth, although it was smart enough to at least wait a few decades first. As soon as Ushtargijak thought that it had a good opportunity, it began sending out a call to all orcs to come and serve it and take revenge against mankind. That's why all those orcs are there."

"I have a few questions," said Elarë.

Kapagund continued pacing. "Ask away!"

"How come no one from here answered the call?"

"Most of the orcs here either fought in the War or now many who did. The orcs who answered the call—and I have no idea where they came from—probably were disconnected from that. They yearn for war, while we, knowing the true horrors of war, do not answer its call. If it was Sauron calling, we would not be able to resist. However, Ushtargijak is far weaker than Sauron."

"Okay, thanks. I have one more question: How do you know all these things?"

"You think we wouldn't scout out our own lands when something strange starts happening? We sent out our own spies to infiltrate the camp and report back to us. In a camp that huge with that many different orcs in it, it's a piece of cake for us, although imagine it wouldn't be so easy for you." She smirked smugly at them.

"Now, we need to talk about what we are going to do about these orcs that are following you. On one hand, I hardly want to bring the full wrath of all the orcs in there down on us. On the other hand, I also hardly want to support them."

"So, what does that mean for us?" asked Hannish.

"I'm getting to that, son. I'm going to call in all the law in this area, as well as the many ex-soldiers that we've got tucked away here. We'll destroy the men that are hunting you so that you can report back to Faramir."

Mermacil sighed with relief. "Thank you so very much," he said. He started to get up.

"Hold on, there. I don't remember telling you to go. Sit down! I still need to ask you all your questions!" Kapagund ordered.

Reluctantly, Mermacil sat down. He didn't see what harm a few questions could do anyways. First, Kapagund leaned over towards Elarë. "What knowledge is it that you seek?" she asked.

Elarë mumbled something that none of them could hear. "Speak up louder, dear," advised Kapagund.

"I wish to learn about the Rings of Power."

Next, Kapagund turned to Hannish. "Who are you looking for?"

Hannish gulped. "How could you know?" he wondered.

"Just answer the question," she warned.

Hannish sighed. "I seek the murderer of my parents."

Kapagund laughed. "Good answer, that." She then turned to Lt. Samnon. "Where is what you love the most?"

Unlike everyone else, Lt. Samnon answered immediately. "Minas Tirith," he replied promptly.

Next up was Kith'tar. "Why did you leave?"

"I did not leave; I was kicked out. I was told I was too weak to survive in this world, too weak for my parents to continue to support me. I left Nurn only to be picked up by Barad-dûr. I've been atoning for those days ever since."

Lastly, she turned to Mermacil. "How did your parents die?"

Mermacil's eyes widened. There was no way that Kapagund could have known that. "A man killed my father. My mother committed suicide."

Before they could discuss the what they had just said, Kapagund spoke again. "Very good answers from all of you. Now, let me show you to your quarters." She led them through the maze of hallways and into a small room with five small beds. The five of them were all so tired from their long day of running that, with a little gentle urging from Kapagund, they all fell asleep and, for now, forgot about the questions.

**A/N: Tapanu had no direct translation into our languages. It represents a concept similar to courage, but has a lot to do with the more physical aspect of it, as well as vigor and strength.**


	13. Chapter 12

_The sun rose very nicely in the horizon this morning. In addition, Tar-Palantir found another lead on the project that I've been working on. All in all, things are shaping up to be a very nice day. I'm currently attempting to prove that there are many more things in this world than we had once assumed._

_ Common theory tells us that there are few races on this world. There are, of course, the Ainur (subdivided into various categories) that are responsible for ruling this world. The are not originally of this world and have large levels of control over it. Most of them serve Manwë Súlimo, but there are a few of them who instead serve Morgoth. Interaction with them is limited, so little beyond what I've described here is known. It is thought that they are few in number (more on this later)._

_ Next come the Firstborn, The Quendi, the elves. They were the first race to actually wake upon this world. They have limited control over this world. A large portion of the elves lives in Valinor and serves Manwë Súlimo. However, many elves also live in Endor and take a more neutral stance. There are no elves who openly serve Morgoth, although they can do so unwittingly or against their will._

_ According to common theory, the orcs are the descendants of elves that were twisted by Morgoth over many ages and had several selective traits bred into them. Little is known of the orcs aside from the fact that they almost closer resemble humans that elves. In general, they serve Morgoth._

_ After the orcs are the dwarves. Dwarven myth says that they were created by Aulë, but they originally had no will of their own, for it is not the place of the Ainur to create life. However, Eru took pity on Aulë and granted them free will. However, he caused them to wake after the elves. Dwarves have even further limited control of their environment, and it is mostly restricted to things related to mining and forging._

_ As a counterbalance to the dwarves, Eru created the Ents. Yavanna saw that the dwarves, created without her knowledge, would come to distrust the natural world. She asked for Eru to give nature someone to watch over itself. In return, Eru caused several trees to awaken and become the Ents and Entwives, shepherds of the forests. They are rarely ever seen, preferring to stay to themselves._

_ Seeing the Ents, Sauron wished to devise a counter to them. From the orcs, he was able to bred two races of trolls. The first was too weak in the sunlight and not worth the advantage they offered. They spread over the world, although most of them fled to the North. The second were known as the Olog-Hai and became some of Sauron's most effective soldiers._

_The next race to emerge, after the ents, were the Secondborn, the Atani, the humans. We were the fourth race to awaken on this world. We have almost no control over the world around us, although according to the elves the world (and the Music of the Ainur) has no control over us. Although many humans serve Manwë Súlimo (or at least, pretend to—most Númenoreans were influenced by Ar-Gimilzôr and do not), many more serve Sauron and Morgoth, and even more serve neither but serve themselves. _

_There are a few other races, such as the Eagles (excluding the Ainur that have taken the guise of an eagle), the great wolves, and the dragons, but they are not so important as their numbers have decreased in great amounts since they were first created._

_However, I have reason to suspect that the Valar attempted to create a few races on their own, and that there are other races that are corrupted similar to how the orcs are corrupted forms of Elves. I will say more after I check out Tar-Palantir's report._

-From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>When Altariel arose there was a light layer of snow on the ground. As usual, Sam was up before her. "Are you ready for what's going on today?" she asked.<p>

Sam nodded. "I sure hope so. I haven't done anything like this in over 40 years. You should eat some breakfast before we go," he instructed.

"All right, I will. You've got Sting?" she inquired.

Sam nodded again. "I've got it right here," he said, pointing to a scabbard. "Do you think it will come in handy?"

"At the very least, it will tell is when orcs are uncomfortably close by. If we're lucky, whatever it is that we are facing might have some sort of vulnerability relating to elvish weapons."

"Oh, that's a clever though."

The rest of their breakfast was eaten in silence. Both Altariel and Sam were to preoccupied by their task to bother making small talk. They ate quickly and packed even faster. They set off through the snow and headed into Carn Dûm.

The ruins only looked even more ominous with their thin blanketing of snow. Altariel knew that there were plenty of things hiding in these ruins, waiting for their chance to pounce. She just wished she knew what she was looking for. Altariel had a feeling that if they looked around for long enough they would find whatever was lurking out here. However, the longer they were in here, the more danger they were in.

Sure enough, as if to prove her words, several orcs ran out from an alley an surrounded Sam and Altariel. The two of them went back to back and they both brandished their weapons. To the orcs, they must have been a comical sight. One of them was a halfling well into his adult. Sam was hardly what one would call in good shape or even remotely agile, and his sword was like a toothpick from the orcs perspective. However, he had a spiritual strength to him that wasn't shown physically, and like most hobbits he fought back hard when things got rough.

Altariel also hardly cut a threatening figure, at first glance. She, while taller than Sam, was still short, even for a woman. She also hardly had the large bulk that many swordsmen did. However, if the orcs had been paying attention, they might have noticed her proper stance and how she held herself with confidence. They might have noticed how her eyes shone with defiance and how her sword was of supreme elven make. But they noticed none of this and made the largest and last mistake of their lives.

Pressed against Sam, Altariel reflected how much she had changed her mind about hobbits. She used to think that they were damn nuisances they weren't worth the effort to protect. However, having met people like Sam she was revising her opinion of them. She know saw more clearly why Gandalf had chosen Frodo to carry the burden of the ring. Even though many enemies with far greater skill surrounded Sam, he still stood bravely.

An orc struck at Altariel and she came alive. She spun and twirled, slashing, striking, dodging and parrying. A whirlwind of elvish steel blew down the orcs one by one, so quickly that they could hardly react. They hadn't expected this kind of threat from Altariel and were more than unprepared for it. Altariel could hear Sam desperately blocking the attacks of another orc in the background. She was prepared to head over to help him, but he was able to slay the orc and move onto the next one, using his small size to his advantage.

More orcs ran out to attack Altariel, but she fought them all off. A bloodlust had overcome her now, and not even a serious wound (if the orcs could actually strike her) would have stopped her at this point. When the orcs stopped coming out, a pile of corpses lay in the disturbed snow. A few had been felled by Sam, but over a score had been slain by her.

Altariel's eyes widened, aware suddenly of what she had done. She had no idea she was this capable with her sword. She couldn't explain it. She felt as though she came alive with the sword in her hand. She felt this way with any sword, but this sword seemed even more compatible than the others.

Sam was clearly even more awestruck than she was. "That was amazing!" he gasped. "You were like one of them heroes out of the stories that Mr. Bilbo always told. I'm so glad we have someone like you to protect us."

Altariel felt a rush of emotion at hearing Sam's words. She was unused to people looking up to her to protect them. Tel and Aula had certainly never acted this way toward her, and Liriel had stopped doing so after she reached her teens. She smiled hesitantly. "Thank you, Sam. I just am really good at-"

She broke off suddenly as she heard a terrifying noise ring out over the city. At first she though it was the scream of some beast, but then she realized that it was laughter. Suddenly, the laughter stopped and a voice—no, more than a voice, it was a terrible thought that was projecting itself all through the ruins—rang out.

COME AND FIND ME IF YOU CAN, ALTARIEL BRANNONION. I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOUR SWORD OR OF YOU. YOU CANNOT STOP ME, FOR I AM UNKILLABLE. I WAS ON THIS WORLD BEFORE YOUR ANCESTORS AND I WILL NOT LEAVE UNTIL YOR DESCENDANTS ARE NOTHING BUT DUST ON THE WIND.

The voice cut off as quickly as it had begun. Altariel jumped backward in shock, clutching her sword reflexively. Sam put a protective hand on her elbow. "Hey, don't worry," he said encouragingly. "Now we know that what we came for is here, and we know that it is not the Witch-king."

Altariel frowned. Sam's words were reassuring, but they weren't entirely what she needed to hear. "What is it?" she wondered aloud.

Sam shrugged. "Who knows?" he said. "What's important is we know it's here and that it can be encountered. We can do this, trust me." He smiled at her bravely.

Altariel took in a shaky breath, trying to reassure herself. "All right," she said, smiling nervously. "Let's go." She strode bravely towards the center, were she assumed her target would be.

* * *

><p>Liriel, Pazij, Guband, and Turondo woke up after they had rested sufficiently to reuse their unique powers again. They knew not whether it was day or night, but they didn't really care. Their bodies were following different cycles now that they had left the sun and moon behind. The four of them continued to move forward inside the tunnel, on the alert for a way down and for more members of The Swarm.<p>

At long last, they came to a doorway. Peering inside, they saw a small stairwell that would take them either up or down. However, there was one small problem.

"I hear something walking on those stairs," said Turondo.

Pazij nodded. "I do too. Would you mind investigating, Turondo?"

"Of course not. This should only take a minute." The tall priest strode confidently down the stairwell. He disappeared from sight, and they could only tell that he was there from his loud cursing. He called back towards them, "I could use some back up!" Quickly, they hurried down to join him. They found Turondo ineffectively slashing at two members of The Swarm. They were a variety that they had never met before.

Turondo kept attacking them with his sword, but every cut he made healed almost as soon as he made it. He killed one of them just as the women reached him by cutting off his head. However, the other one took advantage of this and struck against his armor with his sword. Ordinarily, the blow would have done nothing, but the sword must have been made of a special material for it easily rent the armor and cut Turondo.

Guband gasped. "That looks like a ghoul. They rarely ever show up on battlefields, but they usually wreck havoc there when they do. Quickly, Pazij, they are vulnerable to fire!"

Working quickly, Pazij fired a blast of fire at the creature, taking care not to hit Turondo in the process. Sure enough, the ghoul caught fire and began screaming loudly. It was in too much pain to continue attacking Turondo and it dropped its sword. After around 30 seconds, the fire had consumed the entire thing, leaving behind only its sword.

Liriel was chilled by the presence of the creature. She knew that they would come face to face with far more terrifying things while inside the Swazverai. Stories of The Swarm spoke of many horrifying beasts that were said to make up its numbers. While these beasts were rarely seen on the front, Liriel had no doubt that they would encounter them in the very heart of The Swarm. She shuddered to think of whatever was causing the Swarm could be.

Liriel realized that she had lost focus of what Guband was saying. She stopped worrying momentarily and refocused herself. "…We will travel all together from now on, in case one of us needs someone else's support. Turondo, you almost died today because you didn't have time to cast your spells and your sword was ineffective. From now on, at least one of us will help you scout out dangerous areas."

Turondo sighed. "All right, then. I don't want to end up placing you in more danger than you have to be, but it looks as though there's no avoiding it."

"I'd like to add something," said Pazij.

"Go ahead," Guband said pleasantly.

"We need to keep in mind that our strength needs to be conserved. I cannot be blasting magic all day, nor can Guband or Liriel, or even you Turondo. Therefore, I suggest that we ladies arm ourselves." She bent down and picked up the weapons of the fallen ghouls. "Whatever these weapons are made of, it's powerful. Even though most of us have no formal training with them, we should still be able to use them to some effect."

Turondo eyed Pazij dubiously. "I don't know about that. Often, some of the worse damage that happens when my temple goes in raids is from inexperienced members who end up hurting us as much as the enemy. I'm not saying it's a bad idea, but that it might be better if you had more training. I mean, even as we speak you're struggling to life the weapon."

"I can do this, and so can the rest of us," Pazij said in a quiet and serious voice. "Plus, if we ever are attacked while resting, having a weapon on hand can't hurt."

Turondo sighed. "Very well. However, you must promise me that you will be extra careful with them."

Guband rolled her eyes. "Stop treating us like we're little children, Turondo." When Turondo didn't back down, she rolled her eyes again and said, "I promise."

"I promise," said Pazij.

All eyes turned toward Liriel, whose thoughts had wandered toward the subject of The Swarm again. She blushed when she realized that everyone was staring at her. "I promise," she muttered.

"Good," said Turondo cheerfully. "Let's be on our way, then."

They were able to descend down a few more levels before the stairwell ended. When they stepped out of the doorframe, they discovered that they were no longer inside a hallway, but were in fact inside a large chamber. Judging by the paintings on the wall, this was once a place of worship, although Telimperion had no idea what religion it was for. There were also several creatures of The Swarm inside the room.

Upon seeing the humans, The Swarm turned and attacked. Turondo was the first to get off a spell. He made his usually hand gesture and roared "**Reinintot**!" Several beams of light shot out from his hand, disintegrating several of The Swarm. Unfortunately, there were a few that were unaffected.

"Utumno!" swore Turondo. "They must have some sort of resistance to spells!"

"Perhaps you could try the same spell again and see if you weakened their resistance," Liriel suggested.

"I'm afraid I don't have the energy to waste trying that. I'll have to take them out the old-fashioned way," he replied. Then, he raised his sword and charged at the four remaining creatures of The Swarm. Luckily, it appeared that these creatures did not posses regenerative properties like the ghouls, and they were easily defeated.

"I hope we don't encounter anything that has those properties plus more," said Guband. "Without our spells, we only have Turondo."

"And me!" protested Pazij, displaying her new sword for all to see.

"Speaking of which, I wonder why The Swarm here didn't carry any weapons," wondered Liriel.

"Many reports from the battlefield speak of The Swarm either overwhelming soldiers without using weapons, using unarmed martial arts, using some magic to make their opponents part of The Swarm, or some fear effect to drive them off. Not much sword fighting goes on. Since there aren't enough of The Swarm here to overwhelm us and we are protected by Turondo from fear and being turned, they probably intend to fight us unarmed," replied Guband. Liriel nodded. Guband's response made sense.

There were only two ways out of the room besides going back the way that they came. They could proceed directly forward, through a doorway that appeared to lead into a similar room. Their other option was to take a left and go into what appeared to be another hallway.

"I'm tired of hallways," Guband said. "Let's go explore something new."

"I agree, although for different reasons," Turondo added. "I think we are more liable to find more things inside another room than in the hallways."

"But what if we encounter more of The Swarm?" Pazij protested.

"I'm sure we can fight them off. Besides, if we run out of magic after we fight them we can rest in that room; it should be much safer than in the hallway." Seeing that Pazij was almost convinced, he turned to Liriel. "What do you think?"

Liriel ignored him at first. "Where are all the doors?" she asked.

Turondo looked at her in bewilderment, "what?" he asked incredulously.

"Look at all the _door_ frames. They were clearly meant for doors to be in them. Haven't you noticed how we can see into all these rooms because there are no doors there?"

The group fell silent for a moment. Guband was about to respond when Turondo's protection against the presence failed. For a moment, Liriel retained a semblance of lucidity. However, down here the presence was even stronger and they were all soon reduced to gibbering wrecks. The presence felt as though it was gnawing away at their very souls, shredding and wrenching it apart. Their minds felt as though their brains were being consumed by millions of locusts, and their bodies felt flayed and worn.

Seeing what was happening to Pazij, Guband, and Liriel, Turondo felt something inside him grow. Honor and courage welled up inside him, momentarily driving back the presence, giving him enough time to motion and gasp out "**Besseshutvordembo**!" At once, the presence cleared away, leaving the four of them on the floor of the Swazverai, gasping and recovering from the aftereffects of the trauma.

Turondo was the first to speak. "I apologize," he said. "The closer proximity must have strained the spell beyond its limits. I have recast a stronger version of the spell, though I am afraid it has drained me of my remaining energy."

"Due to this new knowledge and the attack that we all just suffered, I think we should camp here for the night. I think we shall actualize our goals tomorrow. I can just feel it."

* * *

><p>Parthekos caught up with Wilazûrûzj in front of a rather spacious tent with an extra layer of canvas on top of it. "Welcome to th' scribin' tent," Wilazûrûzj proudly announced. It wasn't a terribly impressive sight. Inside the tent lay two small desks. Parthekos realized that the desks weren't made of wood like he was used too. No, wood was far too valuable in the desert. These desks were made of glass. Solid glass, somehow blown into that shape from the sand.<p>

There were a few stacks of blank paper on these desks, as well as a couple of books and a few pieces of paper with actual content on them. It looked as though Wilazûrûzj was writing things down and attempting to bind them into books. Another observation of the room revealed that there was a small machine that could be used to bind books.

"Now, I'm sure ya have a few questions about bein' a scribe. I imagine that the first question on your mind might be something along the lines of 'why would the orcs need a scribe.'" Parthekos nodded. This had in fact been the exact question he was about to voice.

"Well, here's somethin' that ya probably already know to start ya out on solid ground." The orc spat suddenly, as though tasting something foul. "Look, I'm gonna have to switch to Orcish. I can't stomach Westron for very long. I assume correctly that you are conversant, right?"

Parthekos nodded. "I know many words and how the grammar works. I studied what little was known of it extensively back in Hyarragash and have learned more in the past few weeks before I came here."

"Good," said Wilazûrûzj, obviously relieved and now speaking in Orcish. "That'll make things much easier. Now, as I was saying, here's somethin' that ya probably already know to start ya out on solid ground. Traditionally, orcs had few scribes. We jus' didn't see 'em as necessary to accomplish what we wanted. All of our tales were passed down through story tellin', and we have no need ta keep ledgers or nothin'.

"Any messages we wanna send, we just find messengers to remember them." Wilazûrûzj tapped his skull. "We are renowned for our excellent memory."

"So, why have scribes now?"

"I was getting' to that; have more patience, human. I told ya I was starting off with something that you would know. Well, here's what ya don't know: Every time after Sauron was defeated, we orcs were always able to set up a vibrant and thriving culture. During the Third Age, for the most part, we left Gondor alone and they left us alone." Wilazûrûzj laughed. "Hell, it was the other humans that dealt more damage to Gondor, not us. Anyways, back to the subject, the orcs had a grand time whenever Sauron wasn't there.

"However, as soon as He became dominant, He crushed our entire culture in order to bring us under His thumb. All of our religions, our traditions, our holidays, even our idea of what proper manners were like, were destroyed and replaced by His culture. Our elders were powerless to stop it cause He had them slaughtered by the _Korfulaz_."

Parthekos interrupted, "the what?" Realizing his poor manners, he hastily shut his mouth.

Wilazûrûzj eyed him but did not accuse him of rudeness. Instead, he said, "So I see you do not know quite all of our language. Admittedly, it is a word that I wouldn't have expected you to know. It means Ringwraith. Sauron sent then after our elders and storytellers. In under a century He had destroyed most of our culture, leaving us with only the shattered remnants."

"You seem to be doing pretty fine out here," Parthekos pointed out.

Wilazûrûzj shook his head. "This is not what our culture would have been like 300 years ago, before He began interfering with us. The only reason that we know the things that I have just told you is that we captured one of Sauron's lieutenants."

"Sauron had lieutenants?"

"Sure did. Some of them were once ordinary humans, like the Mouth. Others, however, were lesser Maiar that he had managed to bind to his cause. We caught one of the latter."

Parthekos raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You captured a Maiar. Without any elves?"

Wilazûrûzj spit. "Bah, elves! They think that because they were the Firstborn, they know everything. I'll tell you something, human. The elves can defeat Maiar only because of their weapons, they'd be nothing."

Parthekos was still disbelieving. "I don't see any elven swords lying around here."

"Well, first of all, you're assuming that our tribe would have been the specific one to take down the Maia. They could be with some other tribe, you know. Second, we didn't use swords."

"Then how'd you do it? Just answer the question instead of dodging it!"

Wilazûrûzj looked offended. "No need to get all antsy. Was just havin' a polite conversation, 'sall. Since you wanna know so badly, I'll tell ya. Sauron had several ways of controlling his lieutenants. He had given one of his most trusted orc captains, Bulogûhûrga, a gem that would allow him to temporarily "stun" a Maia by briefly powering them down.

"Bulogûhûrga ended up using this gem to capture a Maia and made him reveal what Sauron had done to them. He then convinced roughly a third of the orcs in Mordor to leave it and follow him to live our old lives. They all fled out to here, where we were helped out by the dark elves. I wasn't yet born when this happened, though, so you'll have to take my word for it."

Parthekos nodded. "Thanks for explaining that."

Wilazûrûzj grinned. "No problem. You just need to be a little patient and explanations will come. Now, where were we?"

"You were telling me that you aren't doing fine."

"Yes, exactly! The culture that we have is a combination of what few details we could gleam from the Maia—and let me tell you, it wasn't much—and what the dark elves were able to tell us, which was almost from a millennium ago. The rest, we had to slowly decide for ourselves. Most of what we have here is an entirely new culture. Even the language is different."

"Our elders decided that we would never let that happen again. If someone else tries to wipe out our culture, we want to keep it alive. So, in addition to passing things along by speech, we are recording them to make them harder to destroy."

"So, what's my job?"

"You are going to transcribe various folktales that people around here know. Now, get to work," Wilazûrûzj said, motioning to one of the desks. "One of the elders will be in here shortly to relate a story. I'll be outside, eating."

Parthekos sighed inwardly. _Why can't Aulenmir be here? He'd love this kind of work. He'd love all this listening and memorizing and writing. Well, at least I'll have time to work on my sermon for tonight._

The elder stepped into the tent and Parthekos officially began his job. Now he really was a member of the orc tribe, the first ever human to join an eastern one.


	14. Chapter 13

_I think that one of the major sources of conflict between the elves and the Númenoreans comes from my people not valuing the contributions of the elves to our society enough. True, right now they elves aren't giving us much, and it has been that way for over a millennium now. However, in the past the elves were our main source of technology, trade, and culture._

_ Until around 1700 SA, the elves were the dominant race in northern Endor. They were superior in technological terms due to the innovations of the elves Eregion and their then-strong alliance with the dwarves of Khazad-dûm. They possessed superior physical talents to the Men of Endor and at that point they still had large numbers. The elves also controlled the markets with their superior quality goods._

_ Two major events destroyed the elves' control of Eriador. The first event occurred sometime between 700 and 900 SA. At this point, a group of elves presumed to be from Eregion broke away from the other elves of that region and began committing a variety of atrocious crimes against the Men of Eriador. However, the Men rose up against them and destroyed these elves. From that point on, many of the Men of Endor treated the elves and Númenoreans with suspicion or even outright hatred._

_ The second event occurred around 1700. It was around this time that Celebrimbor discovered that Annatar had betrayed them and was in fact, Sauron. Sauron created his Ring and attacked the elves of Eriador. Instantly, the entire region was thrown into chaos. The elves' control over the region had been slipping for the last millennium as the humans grew to resent their control more and more. In addition, most of Eregion's focus for the past century or two had been on the rings of power, weakening the technological strength of the elves. Finally, already many elves were sailing to Valinor, decreasing the numbers even further._

_ When Sauron attacked, many tribes of Men took their chance and sided with him against the elves. Although some joined with the elves, many of those Men were slaughtered in the ensuing battles. The following conflict lasted for generations and was ended in part because of the timely intervention of Númenor (although Sauron was still dominant outside of Eriador). Many of the remaining Men fled Eriador, leaving a very desolate land._

_ The elves, having been devastated by the war and having lost Eregion and most of their market, suffered greatly. Before, they had been Númenor's source for pretty much everything. Númenorean technology was based off of elvish innovation. The elves were able to sell their goods in Númenor because their goods sold so well in Eriador. Even the language of Númenor, Adunaic, was based in part off of Sindarin._

_Now, the elves fell behind. Númenor became the supplier of the elves. It was expected that this wouldn't be a long-lasting agreement, but the elves unfortunately never truly recovered from the devastating war. Númenor was helping them out more and more without any gain, while the elves attempted to maintain cultural superiority._

_I suspect that this is one of the main reasons that we ended up severing ties with the elves, in addition to their ties with Valinor. Without them, we got by better economically; although I would argue we did worse spiritually. The elves, for their part, finally made that recover we kept expecting them to make and were able to survive without us. I suspect, however, that they view what we did as abandonment._

_I seem to have rambled slightly. The point I was attempting to make is that many undervalue the earlier contributions of the elves. Beyond the things that I highlighted above, the elves also sent us many papers about natural history, magic theory, art, mathematics, and philosophy. Of most interest to me was natural history, specifically about the possibility of other sentient creatures on Arda._

_ Yes, now you see were I was going with this tirade. Tar-Palantir finally uncovered the papers I was looking for. Over two millennia ago, a pair of famous elven researchers (well, famous to nerds like myself anyway), Golwendir and Saeldas took a journey farther away from Eriador than any other elf living there. They headed south to the far depths of Harad, exploring many features of that land along the way. Their expedition took nearly 100 years, and many feared that they had been lost and were not going to return._

_ However, they did eventually return. Their discoveries caused a flurry in the scientific world. However, there were strong traditionalist sentiments among the elves at this time, and most of the ideas were crushed before they could escape Eriador. However, a few reports did manage to make their way here. It is these reports that I examine today._

From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>Peladin awoke early that morning, even earlier than Sirilfa, although she was usually the light sleeper. Aulenmir's sudden departure weighed uneasily on his mind and had not slept well in general. He also had no idea what to do. Aulenmir had given them instructions on how to survive, but not how they should entertain themselves. Peladin was so preoccupied by his own worries that he nearly tripped over Noldolma.<p>

She sat up at once, giving him her usually doggy grin. She wagged her tail and walked off. Peladin felt oddly compelled to follow her. She led him to another strange bookshelf, where he discovered yet another one of Aulenmir's letters.

_Dear Peladin and Sirilfa,_

_ This should be the second letter that you discover. If Noldolma led you to it, again, make sure you tell her how good of a dog she is! I hope you two survived your first day without your uncle just fine. I should be back shortly, although I don't know exactly what it is that the Ephûl want me to do._

_ In the meanwhile, there are a few things that you can do. First of all, there should be plenty of food, so make sure the two of you are eating regularly. Second, if you have the spare time you should attempt to get the snares working again, just so that it is one less thing for me to worry about on my return. Finally, the most important thing is that you continue with the Tale of Aldarion and Erendis. We need to finish that before your mother returns, after all._

_ Obviously, it will be difficult to continue it without me there, and I regret that you will not have me to read it to you. On the other hand, think of how much better a storyteller you will become! You will find a book that has the Tale on the second shelf, bound in maroon._

_ ~Uncle Aulenmir_

Peladin lowered the letter and stared thoughtfully at Noldolma. "Awfully convenient that Aulenmir would leave all these letters behind, innit?" There was, of course, no response. "And it's interestin' that he would have just the right book." The silence that followed this observation was one of the quietest ever experienced. "And isn't funny how you just happen to lead me to these letters?" There was a sudden more-than-silence, as if the universe itself had gone utterly still in order to show how pointedly it was ignoring Peladin's inquiries.

Noldolma just sat there, giving off her cheerful doggy grin. All concerns were banished from Peladin's mind and he went to get out some bread for breakfast. Sirilfa soon woke up and was too tired to register surprise that he was up. She quickly vacuumed up her breakfast and asked Peladin what they were doing today.

Peladin held up the letter. "Looks like Aulenmir left us another letter." Sirilfa was about to ask how he could have done that when Noldolma nudged her leg with her cold wet nose. Sirilfa shrieked with glee and all questions were forgotten. Irked by the interruption, Peladin waited impatiently for Sirilfa to calm down. He then continued, "Looks like we are going to be reading a lot about Aldarion and Erendis today. Are you ready?"

"Oh, yes!" said Sirilfa. As soon as they had cleaned up from breakfast, Peladin started.

* * *

><p>All of Númenor relaxed once they heard that Aldarion and Erendis were finally getting married. At long last, after far too many years of arguing and fighting (and a betrothal that lasted much too long, everyone agreed) the two of them had put their issues behind and were getting married.<p>

In the spring of the year 870 SA, the two were married to the greatest celebration Númenor had ever seen. People sang gaily at the sight of the new couple, and all of Armenelos was transformed, as though by magic, into a place of celebration and merriness. After riding through Armenelos, Aldarion and Erendis toured the island, making sure to visit the forests and the coasts in equal measure.

They ended their tour in Andúnië, where Valandil, lord of that land, greeted them warmly. The people of western Númenor also greeted them, for Erendis was a westerner and they were glad that she had become queen. Valandil announced that the next day Erendis and Aldarion would have one last wedding feast.

Aldarion and Erendis rested for the remainder of that day, and awoke early the next morning. There, they were privy to a sight that would become more and more rare over the next few millennia, until it no longer came. In the sea, out to the west, there was a beautiful ship the likes of which Númenor could never build. It was speeding into the harbor, faster than any other ship in the world.

"Look, Erendis, it is a ship of the Eldar!" cried Aldarion. Hearing him, Erendis turned and beheld a magnificent ship, with gulls circling around it and sails that glimmered with a silvery light. The elves had come to grace Aldarion's wedding, for they had ever been friends of the western Númenoreans. Many flowers they brought to adorn the feast: golden _elanor_ and sweet _lissuin_. They also brought many Telerin minstrels, who are surpassed by none musically save for Maglor son of Fëanor, and he is lost.

Despite the beauty of the fair elves, all those who sat at that table recalled afterward that Erendis was the most splendid sight to behold. Many compared her to Morwen, wife of Húrin, or even to one of the Calaquenya. A few compared her to Lúthien but these people were undoubtedly flattering her to gain favor with Aldarion.

The Eldar brought wedding gifts to the couple. To Aldarion they gave a beautiful sapling tree of many properties. It had white bark and its trunk was strong like steel. Aldarion remarked that a tree like that must have fine wood indeed. The elves were puzzled by this comment, for they did not see why one would cut down so fine a tree.

To Erendis the Eldar gave a pair of grey birds with golden beaks. They sang many sweet melodies together, but they never sang separately and if they were separated they tried to get back together as soon as possible. Such birds were only found in Valinor, and the fact that the Eldar would take some outside of Valinor was a sign of great respect. It is sad how this relationship deteriorated so much in the latter days of Valinor.

The Eldar said that the birds had been instructed to remain with Erendis throughout her entire life. Indeed, they stayed by her side when she slept at Andúnië and later she saw them again when she and Aldarion returned to her home. At last, they bade farewell to the parents of Erendis, who wished them many long years of happiness, and rode back to Armenelos, where Meneldur wished they would dwell. In Armenelos, a house was built in the massive palace gardens, and there the sapling was planted and the birds sang.

It was not until two years afterwards that Erendis first bore Aldarion a daughter. The child was a beauty even when she was an infant, and she blossomed as she grew older. It is often said that of the royal house of Númenor none were fairer save Ar-Zimraphel, the last Queen of Númenor. The child was named Ancalimë, which literally means "bright beyond measure".

Erendis was glad that she had Ancalimë, for she believed that Aldarion would stay with her for a long time to ensure that he also had a son as his heir. Erendis still was concerned by the grasp that the Sea had upon his heart, though she strove to hide it. While she would often talk to him about his old ventures and journeys, she found herself filled with jealousy every time he went to the shipyards or to the headquarters of the guild of Ventures. Aldarion once asked her to accompany him on a small voyage, but he saw that she was not willing to do that and did not ask again.

Erendis did have reason to be afraid, for it was true that Aldarion also loved the sea. After five years he once again busied himself with his duties as Master of Forests. Erendis was not glad at all to know that he was felling her beloved trees once more, nor that he was away from her and their bed so often.

There was sufficient timber in Númenor, largely thanks to Aldarion's skill. However, the increase in supplies meant that people desired more things, which in turn made people want more supplies. And although many in Númenor also made things of stone and things of metal, people often desired things of wood more.

It could be that perhaps the people of Númenor felt closer to wood than rock, for more of the island could be described as woody than as rocky. Perhaps it was because the skills of metallurgy were yet to be gleamed from the elves, while even then Númenorean carpentry was beginning to exceed elven carpentry. Whatever the reason, the demand for timber was great.

Aldarion thought for future generations at this time, and made sure that plenty of trees were planted in place of those that were cut down. He also planned to have new trees planted where none had ever been grown before, and to grow new varieties of trees brought from Endor and from Valinor. During this time the people of the island began to see that he would make a wise and farseeing King. However, Erendis noticed that he did not care for the trees themselves, but rather for the timber that could be gained from them.

Aldarion was similarly far-sighted when it came to the sea. He did not love the sea because he loved the winds or the waves or even exploration, but rather because he had a deep-rooted desire in his mind; a dream that he longed to fulfill. This was Núneth's theory, anyway. Aldarion believed that a time would come when the people of Númenor wished for more land and wealth. He dreamt, therefore, of Númenor's future glory and grandness and the majesty of its imperial kings.

He decided to make footholds in Endor to make the job of these Kings easier. He then turned away from forestry and to the building of ships. He dreamt again, this time of a massive ship with great sails and a grand mast. He ordered a great wooden hull, which many called _Turuphanto_ (Wooden Whale), to be made amidst the lesser ships that were being built in Rómenna.

Erendis, hearing of these things, was displeased, as you can well imagine. She was also irked that Aldarion had not spoken to her of these things himself, and it was probably a poor decision on his part, for she would have almost certainly taken the news at least a little better from him. She spoke to him one day, asking him why he was now spending so much time with his ships than with her and Ancalimë. "Have you not cut enough trees and made enough ships this year, O Lord of the Havens?" she asked in a light tone.

Aldarion replied, "I must have something to do with myself, even though I may have a pretty wife and a lovely daughter." He also spoke lightly. However, neither of them continued the conversation any further, nor did either of them bring it up again in the next few years.

Nearly four years had passed since Ancalimë's birth when Aldarion professed his desire to sail the seas again to Erendis. She had already long since guessed at his desire, and knew that to contradict him would be a waster effort. He stayed until Ancalimë's fourth birthday and made her very happy on that day. They laughed and were merry, though many others were not, for they knew Aldarion's mind. Ancalimë asked Aldarion where he planned to take her next summer, saying that she would especially love the farms and the sheep-lands that Erendis spoke of. Aldarion said nothing to her, and left the house for several days to prepare for his voyage.

He then bade Erendis farewell, and against her will she shed tears at his parting. It grieved Aldarion to see Erendis so distraught at his leaving. However, he was also somewhat annoyed, for she was weakening his resolve. He hardened his heart and said, "Do not mourn so, Erendis. You could not have hoped to bind forever a prince, and moreover a descendant of Tuor and Eärendil. Do not worry; I go not to my death. Before you can miss me, I will return."

"You will be back that soon? I very much doubt that, for I miss you already. Do not be so flippant about the passing of time, for it is unrelenting and our time will be gone before you know. My time especially is shorter than yours, and soon there will be no chance for my children; for your heir. Too often is my bed cold!"

"Sometimes, I think that you prefer it that way, so as to make things gentler in the end. Fear not though, my sweet love. You are beautiful and look ever young yet. I only ask from you two short years, and nothing more!"

"You do not ask; you demand, knowing that I will comply. Take your two years, Aldarion, Lord of the Havens, if you will! But see to it that you keep to your word, as a man of Eärendil's blood should.

The next morning he departed in speed, taking time only for a quick goodbye to Ancalimë, who did not wish for him to go. However, he did leave, departing on his great ship from the port of Rómenna. He named his ship _Hirilondë_, which means Haven-finder, though many still preferred Wooden Whale. _Hirilondë _departed from Rómenna without the King's blessing and Erendis did not place the Bough of Return or in any acknowledge the departure. The captain's wife ended up placing the oiolairë, much to Aldarion's consternation.

Erendis grieved alone in her chambers for she did miss Aldarion deeply. However, she also felt a great cold anger at Aldarion that smothered her love for him and made her hate the sea that he loved so. She couldn't even love the trees as she once did, for they reminded her too much of the masts of her husband's ships. She could not stand to look at the sea, so she departed Armenelos again along with Ancalimë and went back to Emerië.

Erendis sought only to have herself, her daughter, and her servants in her household. Her servants were all women, and she sought to have her daughter grow bitter towards men as well, though she was only four. Ancalimë hardly ever saw any men growing up, for Erendis had few lands to take care of, and her shepherds and farmers lived at a distance from her house so that she rarely interacted with them. The only men who came to that place were messengers from the King, who departed soon after delivering their message, for the very air of that place seemed to drive away men.

One day Erendis discovered the birds that she had been given all those years ago had followed her from Armenelos to Emerië, as the Eldar had promised they would. However, she was not pleased to see them, and shooed them away. They flew away to the house of her father, and Núneth tried to catch them. However, they soon whirled high up into the sky and flew back to the land that they had come from.

Núneth knew what events this strange occurrence told of. "The Prince has left her, and she has given into despair."

"How can you know this?" responded Beregar. "And why had she not sent news or come home?"

"The birds are all the news I need," Núneth responded. "And I doubt she can feel this place as her home any more. Why must my daughter hold such expectations? Oh why, oh why, oh why? You would be so much happier were you to relax!"

When the second year had passed, the house in Armenelos was made ready for the return by the King's orders. However, Erendis herself made no movements to return to that place. She told the King that she would come if commanded, but did not feel that she needed to move hastily now, for his sail had not yet been spotted. She told herself that she would not wait at the docks like a sailor's girl, for those days had long passed.

The second year faded away, and there was still no sign of Aldarion. The next year passed, and autumn set in. Erendis grew harsher still, if possible, and ordered the house in Armenelos to be shut, against the King's will. She kept to Emerië as much as possible and kept others out of there as much as possible. She clung to Ancalimë her daughter and forced her to live the same life of self-exile, not even letting her leave to visit her grandmother Núneth.

All that Ancalimë learned was taught to her by her mother. She learned to write and to read, and how to speak Sindarin and Quenya to her mother. In those days, learning these languages was expected of the nobility, not the eccentric talent that it would become in later days. Often, elven tongues were used more frequently in western Númenor, for even then it was closer to the elves than the rest of the island. Erendis not only wanted Ancalimë speaking in Quenya because her family spoke it, but also because Aldarion spoke Adunaic more than Quenya. Ancalimë spoke little Adunaic.

Ancalimë also learned much from various scrolls books that were in the house. She also learned much of the lore of the land from the stories that servants told, though Erendis was unaware of this. However, the women did not speak often to Ancalimë, for they feared her mother and did little that could in any way displease her. In that household, there was little laughter and there was little music, for more men than woman played instruments, and the women only snag when they were out of Erendis's hearing. The house sounded as though it was a house in recent mourning.

The people began to refer to Erendis as the White Lady, for they feared her and mocked her. Ancalimë often fled from her house when she could, for she was already seven. She would go with the shepherdesses, tend to the sheep, and eat in the great outdoors.

* * *

><p>Peladin finally stopped his reading, exhausted from the sheer volume of what he had just read. He was horrified to realize how much more there was left to the tale.<p>

"I think you did much better, brother," Sirilfa said encouragingly.

"Thanks," mumbled Peladin. He was too tired to elaborate. The two went to bed soon afterwards, praying for Aulenmir's return.

* * *

><p>The battle between the Ephûl and the Keraq'ar was not a long, drawn-out battle where both sides expected to clash again at a later point and wanted to whittle down their enemies forces before resting. Nor was it a short skirmish to see the strengths and weaknesses of either side. Neither group was well trained in the art of war, but they both knew how to fight. Both sides had decided that was a battle in which there could only be one victor.<p>

The Ephûl fought with the determination of those who knew that they were fighting for their lands. They knew that if they lost this battle they could never recover. The momentum that the Keraq'ar would gain would be too great. Sure, they could survive and retreat further back. However, eventually they would be backed up against a wall, and the Keraq'ar would slaughter them. So, they fought hard.

The Keraq'ar, if anything, fought back harder. Unlike the Ephûl, they had nothing to retreat back to. If they lost here, they would be destroyed within a matter of weeks, and then nothing would remain of them at all, for they knew that the Ephûl would destroy all records of their presence.

The ensuing battle was a bloodbath. There were no brilliant tactics or strategies used, for neither side had generals or chains of command. Instead, the battle progressed by picking someone that you thought should be killed and then killing them.

This wasn't to say that they fought entirely without intelligence. Both sides understood the importance of not being flanked, of holding certain regions, of how to pierce through the enemy's ranks and how to flank them. However, they focused on the important aspect of any battle: winning. The speed and ferocity of both sides took Aulenmir by surprise. He found himself being caught up in the frenzied emotions of the fighters, doing things that he never otherwise would have done. He fired his bow many times that day, although he was fairly certain other warriors felled his targets before his arrows reached them.

The snow fell harder, not making the battle any easier. It was blinding if it fell in your eyes, and it made hitting targets a lot harder. In addition, the cold made the armies sluggish and uncomfortable. Aulenmir felt that the battle would have finished in a couple of hours if not for the fact that the snow slowed down the fight.

One thing made a large difference in the battle. The Keraq'ar were newcomers to this land. They had moved up to the Ered Nimrais from Harad and had spent the previous months struggling to adapt, struggling simply to survive. The Ephûl, on the other hand, had been living in the Ered Nimrais, in one form or another, since before the world was made round. As a consequence, the Keraq'ar were weak right from the start, whereas the Ephûl were strong.

Slowly, the Keraq'ar were driven back across the plains. It was a slow defeat, so gradual that Aulenmir hardly noticed that the archers were advancing. The Keraq'ar refused to retreat, for they knew that retreat would just prolong their suffering. Each death was at a great cost for the Ephûl, and each orc that fell could say that they gave their lives bravely. However, the fact that the Keraq'ar refused to retreat allowed them to be surrounded and at last destroyed.

Jamai came over to Aulenmir. "You should be thanking me right now. Thanks to us and the hundreds that we lost today, we have rid these mountains of one of the greatest threats that the world has ever seen since the War of the Ring. However, I know you don't quite see things that way, weak as you are. So, I'll send you on your way." Jamai then wandered over to the front of his army, ready to make a speech. "Guess I'll have to send a messenger to King Elessar," he muttered to himself.

Aulenmir took of at a run, sprinting away from the field of death, which was already being swarmed by all manner of clever carrion fowl. He sprinted away from his crimes, from his bloodstained bow that he had abandoned to rot in this place. He sprinted back to his family, which he could teach to never do what he had done. He sprinted for safety and for his comfortable home.

* * *

><p>Finding a priest turned out to be far than Telimperion or Tu-Ankh had assumed. Things had started out well. They had both woken up early and gotten breakfast from a market stall. The vendor of that stall was able to direct them to the Kirran sections of Minas Tirith, were most of the priests would undoubtedly reside. From there, things hadn't seemed too difficult either. They simply had to find out which god or goddess was responsible for death, and then locate a temple with some priests.<p>

The trouble had first started with finding out which deity was responsible for death. Apparently, this deity was one of the less popular ones, and finding out who they were and who worshipped them is difficult. They were being sent to increasingly nasty sections of the city.

"Hey, is that who I think it is?" asked Telimperion.

"Is who what?" asked Tu-Ankh, very much confused.

"I think it is," said Telimperion, refusing to explain. Her next sentence made everything clear. 'Hey Síthiel!" she called.

The tall elf turned around smiled. "Hello, Telimperion. How interesting that we would meet out here. You look like you need help."

"Trust me, we do," said Tu-Ankh. "We could definitely use an extra set of eyes, as well as some lovely protection in these sections of the city."

"I would be happy to help," Síthiel replied. "What am I looking for?"

"Do you know who the Kirran deity for death is?" asked Telimperion.

"Oh, that's who you're searching for. That makes sense. The Kirran goddess of death is called Heizdi."

Telimperion sighed with relief. "Thank you, Síthiel. No one wanted to tell us. Supposedly, saying her name brings her attention to you, although I suppose that's what we want, in a way. Do you know were her temple is located?"

Síthiel shook her head. "I'm afraid that I do not. However, I am sure that Baidhrif knows, if you are willing to accompany me back to our place."

"Well, I would prefer not to detour…" Tu-Ankh began, right as Telimperion said,

"Lovely! Let's go right away."

They quickly set off for the elven headquarters, which wasn't quite as far away as Tu-Ankh had feared. Everyone was there, and there were all quite happy to see them. Telimperion went over to talk with Raudael and Helgalad, while Tu-Ankh went over to Baidhrif.

"Hey, you two! I didn't think we'd be seeing each other so soon after last night!"

"I can't believe that Síthiel just happened to stumble across you two in the city!"

"Do you know how miniscule the chances are?"

"Hey, do you wanna come help us bake something? We picked up some tasty ingredients last night."

"Sure, I would love too. However, I can only stay until Tu-Ankh gets the information he needs, so I probably will only be able to help for a few minutes." The three of them disappeared into the kitchen. Tu-Ankh watched them go, and then turned to Baidhrif.

"So, what can you tell me about Heizdi?"

"Well, first of all, her worshippers are surprisingly nice, considering what everyone thinks of Heizdi. I guess they are eager to remove the stigma that had placed against them. Second, they tend to hide in the darkest places of the city, where most people aren't likely to consider worshipping Heizdi a problem. Might even come off as light-hearted to those people. So, I'm going to send Síthiel with you again."

"Do you know any specific regions?"

"If I were you, I would check near the houses of healing. I imagine that most of them would appreciate the irony in such a situation. They will probably also be near a morgue, as you might expect."

"Thank you very much for your help," Tu-Ankh replied. "If I had any doubts about you because of what the Shapet had done, they have been erased now."

"I'm glad I could help cleanse the sins of my people." Baidhrif said with a smile.

"You should feel no need to," said Tu-Ankh. "It was their decision, not yours, and my doubts are entirely my problem, not yours at all."

"Still, I can't help but feel bad but for what was done." He paused, as though searching for something more to say, then gave up. "Well, guess that you had best get going."

"I suppose you're right. Tel, let's go!"

Telimperion took a few seconds to reappear from the kitchen, but soon headed eagerly over to Tu-Ankh. Síthiel soon joined them. "All right," Tu-Ankh said as soon as they left the building. "We're going to head over to the houses of healing and then look around the seedier sections of that area. Síthiel, do you know of any morgues in that area?"

"I am sorry, Tu-Ankh, but I am afraid that I will make a poor tour guide for this search. I have only been in the city for a few weeks, and the only way in which I can help you is by supplying information about the various Kirran churches. Baidhrif has been here for almost a decade know which is why he knows so much."

Telimperion's eyes went wide. "Almost a decade? Wow! I wonder how he feels about having stayed away from Mirkwood for so long."

Síthiel giggled. "Oh, Baidhrif's not from Mirkwood."

"He's not?" said Telimperion. "That's two surprises in one day."

"Nope. He actually is a Noldor from Imladris. His name in Quenya is Calwaldo."

Even Tu-Ankh looked surprised. "I never would have guessed that."

They reached the houses of healing fairly quickly and began looking for the nearest morgue. Getting answers out of people turned out to be surprisingly difficult, as few wanted to talk to random strangers about morgues. However, they finally figured out where one was and set out in that direction, asking all the while about Heizdi. Finally, they came to the morgue.

"I'm not seeing any temple, how about you?" asked Telimperion.

"I am afraid that I see no temple either," responded Síthiel.

Tu-Ankh was silent for a few moments, then said, "I see it!"

"Where?" asked Telimperion and Síthiel simultaneously.

"There is a door on the side of the same building as the morgue. However, it looks as though there are steps leading down, unlike the morgue which is slightly above ground."

"That's a strange design," remarked Telimperion.

"It's probably a tradition for the worshippers of Heizdi," said Síthiel.

"Keeping the morgue above the ground keeps their souls closer to Azao," whispered a voice from behind Telimperion.

Resisting the impulse to shriek, she whirled around. "Who said that?" she called out.

A hooded figure stepped from out of the shadows. Síthiel frowned, worried that she hadn't noticed they were there. The figure pulled off their hood, revealing their full features.

Standing in front of the three was a tall man. He wore a heavy amount of face paint. There were dark black circles around his eyes, and his face was rather pale, possibly due to ever greater amounts of paint. His hair was long and unruly, as though the priests of Heizdi had some compunction against combs. Noticing their stares, the man gestured at his face.

"The paint is part of a traditional costume. Beginning on January 10 and continuing until the end of the month is the Festival of the Fireflies." The man opened his mouth to say something, but then waved a hand. "But I'm sure you didn't come here to hear me talk about that. My name is Maurius. I'm the senior priest of this temple. Please, follow me."

Without waiting to see if they actually followed, Maurius strode towards the door that Tu-Ankh had spotted earlier. The trio looked at each other, then shrugged as one and hurried after him. Maurius had opened the door for them and waited patiently for each of them to file through. Inside was a short, dimly-lit hallway that contained very little aside from a painting of what appeared to be a cross with a handle at the top. For some reason, a shudder ran down Tu-Ankh's spine.

"This way, please," called Maurius. He opened up another door at the end of the hallway. This one had been locked twice. Peering past the priest, Síthiel saw a stairway on the other side of the doorway. Maurius spoke again. "I must warn you that once you have walked past this doorway, the gaze of Heizdi will be upon you for the rest of your life. There is no place within Eä where you can escape her. And when your time comes and she finds you, she will know that you have delved into _Huyen Bimat_. And you shall be Judged.

Tu-Ankh frowned. "Into what?"

"_Huyen Bimat_. It is our name for the study of the mysteries of Death. Heizdi does not like those who study her and her art. So, we warn those who enter our monasteries that what they are doing could be seen as learning about _Huyen Bimat_. Our studies have not yet concluded how greatly it factors into the Judging, but we believe it is not an insignificant amount."

Tu-Ankh turned to Síthiel and Telimperion and spoke in a whisper. "If I don't enter the monastery, it doesn't matter how Heizdi views me, I'll never meet her anyway. By the Iron Hells, maybe having her eye on me will hasten the fate I wish to bring about." Tu-Ankh paused. Telimperion could see that there was clear pain in his eyes. "However, I don't want to bring any misfortune on you two. This is something that I need to do, but you do not. I know that both of you are willing to help me, but I won't ask you to do this."

Telimperion snorted audibly. "Don't be absolutely absurd. You saved my life. There is no way that I would abandon you now. Even if it brings some fate to me in their afterlife, I don't care. Your health is what matters here."

Síthiel nodded. "And I as well. Even though I don't know you that well, I sympathize deeply with your plight. I also can't help but feel that this is all my fault."

Tu-Ankh looked much better. "Thank you. It means a lot to me that the two of you are so willing to support me. However, I don't think that this was your fault in anyway, Síthiel. It's important that you understand that, all right."

"I understand. Still, the Elves that made you how you are have a lot to answer for."

Tu-Ankh smiled, but there was no emotion to it. "Believe me, if I don't do soon, I think they will answer." He then turned back to Maurius. "We've come to a decision."

Maurius raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"We will follow you on."

Maurius gave a thin smile. "Good. I believe you have chosen well. Now come! _Tientu_!" With those words, he strode downward into the dark. Tu-Ankh, Síriel, and Telimperion followed him down several flights of stairs. With each successive flight, the air seemed to grow colder and the torches seemed to give off less light. It felt as though they were being lead into another part of Arda, not just going deeper below the city. Maurius seemed not to notice, most likely because he was used to this journey.

They stopped moving farther down and instead began moving through a series of doors. No doubt they had been designed to keep the unwelcome out. The priest navigated the maze smoothly and surely, eager to waste no time. Finally, after what felt like an hour they stepped through a door way and into a grand hall. Many tables were set up there, and several other priests were eating and talking. They were all dressed similar to Maurius. However, as the four stepped into the hall, they turned from their food and looked at them.

"Who have you dragged in this time, Maurius?" called one of the priests. A few snickers accompanied this question. Maurius ignored them.

"They are curious and are eager to learn. I feel that they have many questions we can aid them in. I'm taking them to the apothecary."

Silence followed this proclamation. Then, the one who had spoken earlier stood up. "Very well," she said. "I should go with you, just in case." She leaned in close to Telimperion. "My name's Isha. My job here is to keep Maurius sane in his old age." She winked at them, pointedly ignoring Maurius' glare. "Let's go. The shorter your time in here, the better."

This time it was Isha's turn to lead them through a series of doors. This time the scenery was more exciting, as Isha was leading them through actual places in the monastery rather than empty hallways. Telimperion saw living spaces, initiates training and learning the _Huyen Bimat_, and older priests studying by themselves. Also, this time the trip was a lot quicker, and soon they were at their destination.

They had stopped outside of a room that was raised slightly above the floor of the hallway. Isha spoke. "This is where the apothecary lives. He is one of the wisest of the priests here. Between the three of us, any question you have can be answered." She opened the door.

Telimperion looked inside the room. Seated on the floor was another dark-robed priest. However, this one did not have the same face paint as the others. When they stepped into the room, he did not look up from his work. He seemed to be comparing several different works, but Telimperion did not know enough of Heizdi to know why.

An uncomfortable minute passed in silence as the Apothecary concentrated on his work. He furrowed his brow and stared intensely at a particular sheet of paper. Síriel thought that it may have been written in Quenya. Tu-Ankh coughed, but the Apothecary didn't look up. Finally, Maurius said something. "Excuse me, Apothe—"

"Can't you see I'm busy?" was the swift reply.

"I think we have a case here that might interest you."

The Apothecary snorted. "I doubt anything can keep me more excited than the _Tamdoi_."

Isha broke in. "Will you at least give a listen? The worst case scenario is that you lose an hour of blankly staring at pages. Maybe you'll even learn something that will help you in your study."

The Apothecary finally looked up. "Very well." He looked directly at Tu-Ankh, somehow knowing that the problem was with him. "Tell us your story."

Tu-Ankh took a deep breath at launched into his story. He reiterated how he had been born in the second age, how he had been captured by the Shapet, and how he had been made to live forever. "And know, I seek for a way to remove this curse," he finished.

The Apothecary stared at Tu-Ankh with his eyes wide open. "That's incredible," he murmured to himself. "They found a way…What else could we learn from the Eldar?" Aware that everyone else was listsening, he stopped talking. "I have a suggestion, and I believe that Isha and Maurius do as well. Would you be interested in hearing our three suggestions?"

"Absolutely," said Tu-Ankh with extreme conviction. "I must know how to die."

Maurius spoke first. "My specialty of the _Huyen Bimat_ was always about stories of death. Within my notes I have compiled the largest complete collections of such stories, and I must thank you for your wonderful addition. Using my knowledge of cases similar to yours, I have one thing to suggest: the rite of undoing."

Tu-Ankh frowned. "That does not sound so pleasant. What is it?"

"At the end of the Third Age, several of Sauron's minions lingered on, cursed by some dark power to wander Arda forever. However, one of them discovered a way to end his life. He gathered a substantial amount of life energy and used it to counteract whatever was keeping him alive. This ritual should also work in your case."

"And how does one go about gathering life energy?"

"When someone dies, there are ways to store their life energy that we could show you."

"That sounds rather…dark. However, I will think it over. Thank you."

Isha spoke next. "My area of expertise in the _Huyen Bimat_ was learning how others have perceived death. From this, I can tell you a common theme in these stories: the idea of cycles. Essentially, everyone's beginning is connected to their end. Thus, in order to end your life, you must return to where you were born, seek out one of the Shapet, and get them to end your life."

"That would not be easy, but I prefer it to hanging around the dead. What is your suggestion, Apothecary?"

The Apothecary hesitated for a moment, then spoke. "It is with unease that I tell you this. Take heed, for I do not lightly suggest this path. Should you follow my advice, many dangers could bar your path. I, for one, do not yet fully understand what the Eldar have done to you. However, if there is anyone that can, it is the necromancers of this city. Go to them, and if you survive your encounter with them, you will almost certainly be healed."

"Thank you for your sage advice. I appreciate that you have chosen to help me, even though you did not have to."

"It is part of our creed," said Maurius. "We seek to understand Heizdi so that we can help others understand her." He stood up. "Now, come with me. I will lead you back up to the streets." And so, with a closer understanding of their goals, Tu-Ankh and Telimperion headed back to their inn.


	15. Chapter 14

_Death is a subject of great interest to many Númenoreans, and our stance on death has been evolving throughout time. As one of the "great constants" as Sapthabêl calls it, it has fascinated many, from all walks of life. As mentioned above, Sapthabêl, a philosopher, was fascinated by it, but he's hardly alone. Great kings as well struggle against it, or willingly accept it. Sailors respect it, and the poor feel its presence every day._

_As a culture, our opinion on death has changed in a huge way in the past few centuries. We used to look at death the same way that the Elves do: a blessed release that we should accept, not fight. The Númenoreans used to believe that death came when it was time, and that this time should not be feared._

_However, now we seem to believe that death is something to be feared. Kings have spent fortunes consulting magicians and priests, alchemists and scholars in order to learn how to escape their fated day. However, as far as I can tell, no man has ever succeeded. Every man, rich or poor, wise or fool, meets with Mandos in the end. The only difference is if they choose to boldly go._

From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>"We call this story, in your language, 'Morgoth's Fool,'" said the elder. Parthekos had spent the better (or, in this case, worse) part of his day listening to the ancient orc talk. The orc's name he had learned, was Ilkufen. This was the only personal detail Parthekos had learned, for after introducing himself, the orc had gotten straight to the business of telling his tales, and Parthekos had gotten straight to writing. Parthekos speculated that Ilkufen had not said anything more about himself because there was nothing to say.<p>

"In our tongue, it is known as _Mornûtir Kuinzje_. The story begins by the Icebay of Forochel, which is called …"

Parthekos largely tuned the elder out. He was still able to write down what was being said, but he didn't absorb any of it. Thankfully, that was the last story that he had to record for the day. Now, it was time to eat and give his first sermon. He thanked Ilkufen for taking time out of his day, and then left the tent to head to the center of the camp. He had written down a few notes for his speech when he wasn't busy transcribing, and now he had those notes in his pocket, waiting for his chance to speech.

The evening meal was simple, but delicious. A few of the orcs were assigned with the responsibility of preparing the food that the hunters and gatherers brought back. Although the hunters hadn't brought back much these past few weeks, the amateur cooks still did the best they could. Also, the orcs had begun a small agriculture program. Soon after they had moved into the desert, they had realized that they would not long last merely on hunting and gathering. They had thus decided to cultivate a few crops that could grow in this environment and grow them on a greater scale.

This meant that Parthekos would soon learn to enjoy the taste of cactus, despite his wishes otherwise. It also meant that these orcs had very different diets than their western cousins. Parthekos finished his meal slowly, since he wouldn't be able to give his sermon until the orcs had finished theirs. Once, everyone had finished, he stood up and loudly called. "Attention please!"

The orcs largely ignored him. Generally, it took a great deal more than loud shouting to get an orc's attention. Parthekos rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed, and grabbed two large metal plates that had been used in the meal. He clanged them together loudly and shouted, "All right, you _tarks_, pay attention!" That did the trick. Well, at least a few them glanced his way this time. Taking that as a signal of the most attention he would be getting out of the orcs, Parthekos launched into his sermon.

"First, I wish to thank you all for taking me in, despite having no real need to do so, especially considering that I add very little of practical value to your tribe. I fully intend, as time goes on, to become more of an aid to you all, though for now I am happy to help the elders transcribe their stories.

"Meanwhile, in my free time, I intend to do what I was sent here to do; tell you of my religion. If I cannot do this, then I have no real purpose here and will leave. I don't intend to force you to listen, let alone believe, but I do ask that I be allowed to speak my mind. Maybe, what I say you will find worth considering. I intend to start today, with the creation myth told by the priests of Azao."

"Who?" called a rough voice from the crowd.

Parthekos smiled gently. "If you want to learn who, then you should stay in listen."

The orc spat on the ground. "As if I have time for that. I'll leave you and the _Dêkagirtarkû_ to say your silly stories."

Parthekos saw an unfortunate amount of agreement with the orc. However, he wasn't that worried. He knew that Azao would not have given him an easy mission, but at the same time he wouldn't give a devout devotee like Parthekos an impossible task either. And Parthekos knew that in a group like the orcs, where so much of their spirituality had been destroyed by Sauron, they would love something to believe. So, without further delay, he launched into his tale.

* * *

><p>The Universe began with the birth of Croqi, the goddess of time. Croqi is the mother of all the other gods. Without her, they would not exist. Thus, she is respected and feared by all the other gods. As the goddess of Time, she has a wide and varied power set that makes her the most powerful of gods. Stories are told about her having the ability to destroy all other gods, but that's a tale for another day. Once she was born, events could happen and could cause further events to happen.<p>

One of these immediate effects was the creation of Croqi's three children. These gods are collectively known as the Timely Ones, owing to their close relationship to Croqi. The first creation of Croqi was the creation of the Universe, Eä, also known as Dupri. Soon after, Croqi birthed a structure for Dupri, known as N'zogu, the god of order. Created in equal fashion as N'zogu, to be his opposite, was M'lat, the god of chaos.

Everything within this universe, down to you and me, is contained with Dupri. Therefore, Time, Order, and Chaos are not truly part of this world, be can act above and beyond it. Dupri is widely considered the second most powerful of the gods, owing to her containing literally everything. It is best not to anger Dupri, for the consequences of doing so could be catastrophic.

N'zogu is a being of pure law and order. He works constantly to keep Dupri the same; to ensure that nothing new happens. He also works hard to counter the actions of M'lat and prevent Dupri from being destroyed by his actions. Every law of this universe is decided by him, and it is him we can thank for our lives, for we cannot survive without order.

M'lat is his pure opposite in fashion. He seeks to upset N'zogu's delicate balance by creating new things. He makes constant changes to Dupri's eternal state so that nothing stays the same. In a bizarre way, we also can thank him for our lives. If not for M'lat, the Universe would have stayed the same as when it was first made, and Arda and all of the races would not exist.

Now, N'zogu and M'lat fought over Dupri, and their battle continued for many generations. During this time, Croqi was the leader of the gods, the pinnacle being to be worshipped. However, Croqi soon faded to the background, content to let her children rule. She left the universe to a private sanctum known as Shindi. There, she fell into a deep slumber. The few tales of her before her leaving I shall tell, and also of the three times when she has left her slumber.

In her absence, her three children had many children to use as weapons in their fight. This next generation of gods are known as the primordials. They are the intrinsic elements that make up this universe, though they may not all seem this way. Their combinations have created a further generation of gods known as the Elder Gods, but they do not concern this tale.

N'zogu had the fewest children. His children were Lupinq, the God of balance, Sarkai, the goddess of ice, Kanjing, the goddess of sleep, and Heizdi, the goddess of death. Together, with his four children, N'zogu works to ensure that Dupri remains constant and stable. Making up for the fact that he has so few children is the counterpoint that Heizdi is the strongest primordial. Nonetheless, Dupri does have a tendency to Chaos because of this weakness.

Dupri had more children than N'zogu, although still not as many as M'lat. Her children were Sermri the god of earth, Nuchua, the god of love, Zau, the goddess of life, Xulping, the goddess of light, Niphon, the god of song, and Tyriq, the goddess of darkness. Similar to the weakness of Order having fewer children, because the Universe had a middling amount of children, Xulping was the second strongest of the primordials.

M'lat had the most children of the Timely Ones. His children were known as Gonar'kai, the god of fire, Gufanz, the god of lightning, Bedao, the god of Passion, Roszs, the god of air, Bitra, the goddess of water, Rizif, the goddess of mystery, Sardak, the god of ruin, and Shu'an, the goddess of metal. Because M'lat had the most children, Gonar'kai was the third strongest of the primordials.

Now, the primordials themselves created many children under their grand domains, and this third generation, the Ancients, are myriad as the stars. Later, I shall go into more detail of their existence, but for now all that is needed is that they exist. Under this time, while Heizdi would normally have been considered the main god to worship, owing to her seclusive nature, Xulping was the one worshipped.

Time passed, Croqi took a rare break from her slumber to decree that there needed to be primordials that were neutral in the conflicts of the Timely Ones. These two gods were called the Sun and the Moon. Together, they are known as the Cælestis. Between the two of them, they work hard to keep the balance even. However, because there are three sides to this conflict, there is no perfect balance. The god of the sun is Azao, and the goddess of the moon is Latao. Because they were created to balance the primordials, they are considered stronger than the others and are today the main gods worshipped. Tomorrow, I shall talk of Croqi, and the creation of the Cælestis.

* * *

><p>After his tale had finished, Parthekos surveyed what was left of his crowd. Not so surprisingly, few of the orcs remained once he began speaking. However, Parthekos was encouraged by the small number that was there. He was confident that numbers would only grow.<p>

One orc came up to him as the others also drifted away. He made a low bow before Parthekos. "It's hard fer me ta say, but something about what ya said hit me hard. The idea of a struggle between order 'n' chaos, y'know. Today, I, Bolozji, become your first convert."

Parthekos smiled. "You have made a wise choice. May Azao shine upon you, Bolozji." The smile didn't leave Parthekos face until he was deep in sleep. At least, he had begun to accomplish something.

* * *

><p>Finding her way into the center of the city proved to more of a challenge than Altariel had thought it would be. First of all, the ruined city had no logical structure to its streets. They weren't arrayed in rings, like Minas Tirith. Nor were they set out in a gridded structure, like some of the cities of Harad that Mermacil liked to talk about. The streets wandered whatever way they wanted, and Altariel was left to guess where the center of the city was.<p>

In any other weather, the direction of the streets wouldn't have been much of a problem, for there were few walls and buildings still standing completely. The center of the city would not have been visible, but it would have at least been guessable. However, as they got closer to the center, the snow came down faster and faster. The wind began blowing faster as well, until they were near walking through a blizzard.

The cold bit fiercely, making both Sam and Altariel wish they could stop and find some source of heat. The snow blew into their eyes, making it near impossible to see. Over the howling of the wind, they could not have heard each other even if they were talking. Neither of them had the energy to do so.

Several times, they were nearly killed by orcs that were able to use their senses better than Altariel. Only the glow of Sting saved them from a grisly fate. However, once they knew the orcs were there, Altariel was able to defeat them. The orcs were not very well coordinated. Many of the groups only seemed to have found them by pure chance. Altariel hypothesized that whatever that voice was only loosely controlled the orcs.

After a few hours, they bumped into a group of orcs that was a little different than the rest. First, one of the orcs was wearing a maroon sash, as though to signify that there was something special about him. He also had a differently shaped sword than the other orcs.

He held up a hand, and the other orcs around him formed a circle around Altariel and Sam. At least, Altariel assumed as much. She couldn't see half the orcs due to the ever-falling snow. She slowly eased Sting out of its scabbard, and Sam did the same with his sword, turning around to protect Altariel's back.

The strange orc spoke, his rough voice ringing loudly through the ruined city. "I am Taburz, captain of the King's armies in this city."

"You mean Strider?" asked Sam, bewildered. "Why would he appoint an orc to rule this city?"

The orc laughed, a cruel mocking sound that set Altariel's ears on edge. The other orcs joined in, jeering at Sam. "Silly, fatling," he said. "No, not your impotent King on his throne of quicksilver. I speak of the power of Angmar; the Witch-king."

Now it was Altariel's turn to be confused. "The Witch-king? Is he not dead?"

The orc lowered his voice. "Garr, that's the truth. Nonetheless, he appointed my father captain, and when my father died I became captain. No one else had given us rule." His voice dropped even lower. "Until IT came."

"You mean that voice…" ventured Sam.

"Quiet, fool!" hissed the orc. "Yes, that's the thing of which I speak. It came here several years ago, ruling us in its iron, alien, grip. We have been seeking our release ever since then. I think that our day has come."

Altariel raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, letting the orc explain himself. "I believe that we can come to a sort of agreement, and work together to unseat IT. You will stop killing us and focus your attention to IT. In return, we will stop attacking you and lead you to the center."

"Seems fair enough," said Altariel. "What's the catch?"

Taburz grimaced. "Seems like not all of my lads like the idea of letting you two off free once all's said and done. Thus, I need to transfer power over to you, in a truly orcish fashion. Just to show the boys that you've got what it takes to be an orc."

"That doesn't sound nearly so nice at all," said Sam.

The captain grinned again. "Oh, I think you'll like this fine enough," he said, speaking directly to Altariel. "It's simple-we fight."

This time, Altariel raised both eyebrows. "A fight? With what conditions?"

"I'll let you chose those, as the challenged. Got to follow proper procedure, or what kind of orc army are we?"

"A frickin' real one, that's what," shouted a voice from behind Altariel. Taburz wisely ignored the comment, as well as the snickering that followed after. Altariel noticed that Sam was also struggling to contain his laughter, much to her and the orcs' amusement.

"Very well. We'll fight now, here, with swords. To the blood."

The orc laughed again, in a somewhat nicer tone. "Short and to the point. Much like most of my fights. I like it. Also, I'm rather relieved it's not a fight to the death."

"Also, I'd like it if your men backed off to one side, and my second here went to the other side of the street. I must admit I still have some qualms trusting you."

"Hell, you think I do not feel the same way? I'll agree to that. I doubt there's much harm Baggy over there can do."

It took all of Sam's self-control not to throw himself at Taburz. Instead, he shoved his hands under his armpits to keep them warm, then stalked off the one side while Taburz's minions crept off to the other side. Taburz began stretching in preparation for his duel. Altariel did the same.

Once the two of them were significantly warmed up, they bowed to each other, then they drew their swords and were at it. Even after all his time spent with the Fellowship and keeping peace up in the Shire, Sam had never seen sword play anywhere near this level. Altariel and Taburz were insanely fast and strong, and yet neither of them could land a blow on the other.

Though no one there knew it, the fighters were most likely the strongest mortal swordsmen alive at this time. Taburz had been sword fighting from a very young age, and his father's position had allowed him to spend most of his time growing up learning how to fight. He had first honed his skill defending the ruins of Carn Dûm from raiders to the North, and then later on when the orcs splintered into fragments. He had fought long to regain his title as Captain, and he was determined not to lose it.

Altariel, on the other hand, had not trained to be at this position. Some frightening combinations of genetics and perhaps a little extraordinary will had worked to give her inborn skill unmatched by any other. Had Altariel even for a year trained at fighting this wouldn't have been at all a fair match. However, the reality of Altariel's status in the world, as well as her job and what she had done for most of her life prior to fleeing north had left her unable to learn. Instead, she fought as hard as she could for her safety.

For most of the fight, Taburz was on the offensive. He attacked with cold, calculated precision, guiding each strike towards a weakness in his opponent's defense. Altariel, on the other hand, seemed to be reacting to each strike as it came. Each time, though, her defense was superb. She even got in a few counterattacks after leaving Taburz off balance.

The two fighters covered most of the street, doing their best not to slip on the cold snow. Altariel did go down once, but she rolled quickly out of the way and hammered at Taburz before he could exploit that opening. They went back to their pattern.

Finally, Taburz misjudged Altariel's defense. He struck, but she was prepared for him and countered quickly. Taken by surprise, Taburz could not get his defense in time. Altariel slashed at his chest and scored a hit. Surprised, Taburz fell flat on the snow.

He panted heavily. "All right. You've done it, Captain." He paused. "Say, you never told me your name."

Altariel was silent for a few moments as she tried to regain her breath. "Altariel. Altariel Brannonion."

Taburz smiled. "Well, Captain Altariel, I think you have a bright future as a swordswoman ahead of you." He stood up and spat on his hand. He grinned again and extended it. Altariel mimicked his actions and shook his hand.

Taburz let go, sheathed his sword, and sprinted toward the center. "Angmar!" he shouted. The other orcs echoed his call, and along with Sam and Altariel, they hustled in toward the center of town. Other orcs joined them along the way, until they had practically an entire host behind them. For the first time, Altariel felt as though she could succeed. It even felt as though the snowfall was slowing.

**A/N: So, I'm doing NaNoWriMo again this year. That means I'll be updating a lot for this month. We may even reach the end of the tale this year. Thanks for reading; if you enjoyed the story, please review!**


	16. Chapter 15

_I don't often talk about my father. While he supported my ambition, allowing me to attend some of the best academies in Númenor, he did not share my love of knowledge. I'm afraid to say that we drifted apart in our later years. However, I did not let our relationship dissolve over sheer disinterest. In the last few years of his life, I made an effort to spend more time with him, to learn what about he made me who I am._

_I learned that my father had been a member of the navy once; he had picked up his knowledge of sailing and the like from there. However, that had been a very short phase of his life. My father turned out to be a man of many talents. His time in the navy was the first of many jobs._

_He worked in all parts of the island. As a farmer and as a landowner. He worked in many trades, although he certainly was no expert in most of them. He recalled blacksmithing as a unique experience that he never wished to repeat. However, he said the greatest lesson he learned was as an apprentice to a carpenter._

_The carpenter's name was Stápan. According to my father, he was a strict master, but he knew how to relax and enjoy himself. My father ended up continuing to correspond with him, even after he had finished his apprenticeship._

_One day, man came by and asked for a certain piece of furniture. When told that he could have the piece made for him and get it later, but not right away, the man became furious and enraged. He told Stápan that he would curse him for all eternity for this slight. Figuring that the man was either slightly unhinged or having a bad day, he asked the man politely to leave. The man stormed out, all the while swearing eternal vengeance._

_That night, the carpenter's store was burned down. The carpenter was distraught, as the store represented his entire life's savings. Strangely enough, the next day the store had returned, and everything was back to normal. The stranger came back and apologized for what he had done, revealing that he himself was cursed._

_He could do almost anything he wanted, but he had to truly believe in what he was doing. He could cause the carpenter's house to burn down because he was so angry at him, but when he saw how distraught the carpenter was he couldn't feel that way anymore, thereby restoring the carpenter's house to its former glory._

From _the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>Mermacil was shaken awake by Kapagund. The orc seemed in a hurry, so Mermacil rose immediately and without complaint. She motioned for him to follow her back to where she had first questioned them. Seated by her desk was another orc, this one younger. Kapagund motioned to him.<p>

"This is Pogarash, one of our scouts. He has some vital information on the approaching enemy that I'm sure you'll be keen to hear. Go ahead, speak."

Pogarash spoke in a voice that was surprisingly high. Then again, Mermacil did have much experience talking with orcs, and it would make sense that orders shouted in battle would be deeper than everyday conversations.

"The enemy approaches quickly. I suspect they will be here in two days, maybe faster if they have shortened rests. The forces that were pursuing you were definitely but a fraction of the full strength of the army in Gorgoroth. These orcs number 500 at most."

"Thank you for your report, scout. I'll see to it that you are rewarded." Pogarash bowed and then left, leaving Mermacil alone with Kapagund. "Well, as an experienced Ranger, what do you think? I'm sure you have plenty of experience fighting orcs."

Mermacil scratched his neck. "Not as much as you might think. I've spent the past few years of my life seated at a desk in Minas Ithil and before that the largest group of combatants I eve fought, orc or human, was hardly larger than a dozen."

"You think that I'm not in the same position here? I rose to this position hardly more than a year ago. I've had less experience in battle than some of our scouts here. I need all the advice I can get."

Mermacil shrugged. "Very well. First of all, I'd suggest that we mobilize our forces now and pick a spot outside of the town in which to fight the army. Hopefully, we can pick a spot that concedes something of a tactical advantage to us."

Kapagund pursed her lips. "'I think I know just the spot. I need you to deliver this message to the commander of the small troop of soldiers we have here." She handed him a sealed roll of paper. "Once you exit this building, walk left down the street. At the first intersection, turn right and you should be able to easily spot the building that says "Armv".

"Armv? What does that mean?"

"Army. The signs warn away quite a bit. That's the desert for ya."

Mermacil chuckled a little, then stepped outside. The street was absolutely packed with people hurrying every which way. Apparently, news of the approaching army had spread beyond the police and the militia and was now everyone's concern. Mermacil thought it was interesting to see how different people approached the problem.

Some people, being opportunists at heart, were selling things at somewhat heightened prices, citing a "war demand" whenever someone asked. Other similar souls were selling weapons or good-luck charms, while others were taking this opportunity to talk people into doing things they problem shouldn't, with a very classic "last day on Arda" mentality.

These stories were bought up by the alarmists, who were all panicked that an unstoppable tide of orcs was waiting to lay siege to their beautiful town. These were the people who were quickly buying whatever supplies they could find and making their way out of the town, and were sure to spread the news to whoever they could find.

Others saw the advancing army as a normal part of living in Nurn; a land fraught with many similar perils, even if often on smaller scales. One thing, however, was constant: everyone was sure that Drakarator would be much changed by the army.

On his way to the militia headquarters, Mermacil bumped into Kith'tar. "It's been a while since you've actually been in Nurn, huh?" he asked.

Kith'tar shrugged. "Yeah, about a decade, I guess. Ever since I started working for Minas Ithil, I've been meeting with my contacts in fairly neutral locations. Well, as neutral as one can get in Mordor and Gondor. It's been some time."

"Is there anything you want to do while you're here?"

Again, Kith'tar shrugged. "I mean, this clearly is not the village I grew up in. For one, it's much too close to Gorgoroth. It's also a lot larger. I have no personal connection to this place, aside from the fact that it's in the roughly correct geographical region. I guess I could always eat some of the food here. Gondorian cuisine just isn't the same as where I used to live."

"Well, I guess for now you could at least accompany me to the where the army is. Apparently, Kapagund has some message she wants me to deliver."

"Well, I am a diplomat. I'd be disappointed in myself if I didn't spend at least some of my time delivering messages. Sure, I'll come." Kith'tar gave a rare smile. "Also, you may end up poorly if you accidently offend someone without my translating skills."

"Yes, that would be an unfortunate end to this mission," Mermacil said with a chuckle.

Soon, the two had arrived at the army headquarters. Mermacil and Kith'tar strode inside, where they were greeted by a young man seated at a desk.

"What brings you to Armv?" he said with a grin.

Mermacil waved the scroll. "I have a message to deliver to your commander."

"Wait right here please. He'll be out in a moment." The man went through a door to their left. Mermacil and Kith'tar, seeing some chairs by the desk, sat down. They had scarcely been seated for a minute when someone else burst into the room. Seeing that there was no one at the desk, they turned and faced Mermacil and Kith'tar. It was Eläre.

"What are you doing here?" They all asked at the same time. Mermacil looked at Eläre, indicating that she should answer first.

"Kapagund asked me to do her a favor. After sending you off, she needed someone else to go talk to the head tactician of the army to ask about a place to set up an attack. What are you two doing here?"

Mermacil spoke for Kith'tar. "I was given a message by Kapagund as well. I'm not entirely sure what the contents are, but I'm fairly certain it contains details about the strengths of the approaching forces. I bumped into Kith'tar on the way here, and he decided to accompany me. Do you know where the others are?"

Eläre shook her head. "I don't. Kapagund may have sent them out on errands like us, or they may be off doing their own thing."

Kith'tar frowned. "They should not be separated from us so easily. It's harder for just the two of them to defend themselves."

"Also, we really should be maintaining our order better," Mermacil agreed. Before they could say anything else about the others, the man returned.

"Commander Athros will see all of you now," he called.

"Even me?" queried Eläre.

"Yes, Master Tactician Nosôros is in there as well, waiting to see you. Go in through the door to your right."

"Thank you," said Mermacil. The three filed through the door that had been pointed out to them. The door lead to a hallway, with only one door, at the very end of the hallway.

"An interesting architectural choice," noted Kith'tar wryly.

"It may be designed like this because it's easier to defend," Mermacil pointed out.

Kith'tar grunted, but made no other supply. He then reached out and opened up the door, motioning for the other two to head in first. The room past the door was dimly lit, with several old men sitting around a large table. There were large piles of paper and many maps spread across the wood.

"Hello, travelers," said one of the men. "I am Commander Athros, leader of the army that is responsible that defends this town. Please, sit down." The Commander motioned to three empty seats at one end of the table. Mermacil and Eläre handed their messages to the Commander, then sat down at the end of the table.

Athros handed the messages off to one man, who Mermacil assumed to be the tactician, Nosôros. Nosôros frowned, then went over to one of the maps on the table. As he was peering at the map, Athros spoke directly to Mermacil and the others.

"You have presented us with something of an issue. Obviously, it is important that we defeat the invading army, as they will do untold amounts of damage to our town if they are not stopped. In addition, if we are defeated here it will motivate the greater army that sits in Gorgoroth to come and invade all of Nurn.

"However, defeating this army is not enough. Even if we defeat them, in a week, an army of ten times that size will arrive. The next week, an army ten times that. We cannot hold out for long enough to stop their entire army.

"This where you come in. Your team will assist in defeating the orcs, which is only fitting, as it is your shoddy stealthing across Mordor that brought their attention to us. Indeed, the three of you are already helping by delivering messages, and once we figure out a location to meet with the orcs, the three of you will ride ahead and scout it in advance, then return here."

Mermacil broke in. "Where are Lt. Samnon and Hannish."

A different man answered his question. "They are training with the rest of the army. We need every fighting man we can get if we are to hold off the orcs.

Nosôros spoke softly, so softly that Mermacil couldn't hear him. "What was that?" he asked.

Athros spoke for him, "We have a location," he declared, pointing at one of the maps. "If our information is accurate, in order for the orcs to reach us from their current position, they will have to head through the Vale of Durmik. There, we can set up an ambush that will set them completely off guard. The three of you will scout it out."

"What exactly does that entail?" Eläre wondered nervously.

"The job should be fairly simple. The three of you will head over to the Vale as soon as I dismiss you from here. If the orcs are already in the Vale or are taking a different route, you will return to us immediately and we will instead head to an alternate location. If not, stay there and our troops will join you by the end of the day."

"And, what happens after the battle?" asked Mermacil.

"If we lose, you will almost certainly die. If we win, you will go as quickly as you can back to Gondor. Alert your king of the events that have transpired here and muster as many men as you can to defeat this menace. Although it pains me to ask the Reunited Kingdom for help, there is no other recourse in this case."

Mermacil nodded. "I understand. We will do what you ask of us."

"Good." Athros brought the map over to them and gave them the exact directions to the Vale. "The three of you are dismissed. May Ilúvatar grant you strength."

An aide who had been seated at the table showed them to a nearby stable. "You need to go on horseback or else you'll never arrive in time. I hope that you have all rode at some point in your life?" Without looking to check, though thankfully they all had, he went on, "Then you'll set out right away. The horses are already saddled and supplied." And with that, they were off.

The ride was short and sweet. It was certainly more enjoyable than the run to Drakarator had been. On that run, it had been all Mermacil could do to keep breathing while putting one foot in front of the other. On horseback, not only did the greatly increased speed of the horse make the entire trip less arduous and painful, but not having to actually do the movement allowed Mermacil to enjoy the ride a little.

When you got down to it, Nurn wasn't really that bad a place. Sure, the desert wasn't for everyone, and Mermacil could easily see someone getting tired of it. However, his years in Harad had taught him to appreciate it more, and he loved desert landscapes in ways few others did. Sure, it was no Ithilien, but after the Elves had come to that already lovely, if somewhat war ravaged, land, there was nowhere within the sphere of Arda that was as beautiful.

Soon, they had arrived at the Vale of Durmik. Much to their relief, there was no large army of orcs there waiting for them. A few hours of scouting determined that the orcs were indeed on their way to the Vale. A few hours after that, the rest of the army joined with them and they set up camp for the night.

Before going to sleep, Mermacil went to find Lt. Samnon and Hannish. He found the two of them chatting by a campfire, with no one from Drakarator around. They were both very surprised to see him. "Mermacil, what are you doing here?" asked Hannish.

"We were told that they were only adding us to the army because of our experience and our fighting skills. No offense, but you don't really fit that description as well as us."

Mermacil glared at Samnon. "Thanks." He said shortly. "I'm here because Athros asked Kith'tar, Eläre, and me to scout out this vale. I don't think we'll be doing any actual fighting tomorrow, just watching with the rest of Command." He paused and sat silently with the other two men for a few minutes.

It was a nice night out. Although in most of the rest of the Reunited Kingdom, it was the middle of winter, Nurn was much warmer than those areas. As a result, it was a pleasant night. A shame that it was the eve of death.

"Were you two informed of what we are doing if we survive this battle?" Mermacil asked. The others shook their heads. "Once we win, we are immediately riding out to Minas Ithil to tell Faramir of what's happening here. From there, we will probably have to go directly to Minas Tirith. Do you understand?"

"Of course."

"Absolutely."

Mermacil left them there with that thought.

* * *

><p>Liriel awoke sore and stiff after a "night" of sleeping on the hard rock of the Swazverai. She could feel in the air how much closer they were to the source of The Swarm. The air felt much colder than it should, especially at subterranean levels. And despite Turondo's best efforts to remove the bizarre smells of the tomb-like structure, there was now a faint trace of it in the air.<p>

Pazij apparently felt the same way. "Oh my, I hope everyone's ready for today. I can smell how close we are."

Guband smiled viciously. "Good. Then we can stop the source and get out of these pits of hell."

Turondo strode forward through the open doorway to test to make sure that his protection spells would hold past where they had set up camp. Thankfully, for now they were holding up. Liriel shuddered, thinking of what had happened yesterday when the spell had failed for the first time. She wondered what kind of affect it had on people who were exposed to it for nearly forever.

She shuddered again, a thought having come to her. _What if that was what caused the creatures in The Swarm to turn from humans into whatever monstrosities they were now? Driven insane by the presence of whatever was down in Swazverai, they lost their humanity, like that creature from the stories about the War of the Ring._ Liriel resolved to banish the thought from her head. The last thing she needed at a time like this was to give in to the overwhelming pressure of this place and despair.

She followed Pazij and Guband into the room. There appeared to be no creatures of The Swarm in this room, thankfully. However, there were three doorways leading out the room (though Liriel noticed that again there were no doors in the door frames). No one was quite sure which way to go.

"What now?" asked Guband.

"We obviously can't split up," added Pazij. "However, if we take a path that leads in the wrong direction, we could lose lots of valuable time and the lives of those fighting The Swarm above."

Turondo spoke up hesitantly. "I might be able to use some of my magic to sense which doorway is more corrupt, but I can't help but feel that the difference would be faint at best."

"I can do the same with my earth power. If we both search for the most corrupt area, between our two powers I'm sure we'll find something."

Turondo pursed his lips. "I'm not sure I want you exposing yourself to this ground. It could be quite dangerous for you."

"Then it's your job to help me pull back if that happens," she responded. "We need to do this, and unless Pazij or Guband has suddenly learned away to sense the corruption as well as us, I'm the only option you've got."

"Very well," he said. "But I'm going first. If I can find it by myself, then there will be no need for you to go at all."

"I can accept that," Liriel conceded. "Best of luck."

Turondo nodded, then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He suddenly opened his eyes, turned toward one of the doorways, and shouted, "**Spurenbos**!" A beam of light shot from each of his eyes, traveling down the tunnel, peering into the murky depths of the Swazverai. He repeated the process at each juncture. When he had finished, he was breathing heavily.

Turondo pointed to the left and right passages. "The center passage way seems to be less heavily contaminated by the presence of…whatever it is that's down here. Unfortunately, I can't be any more precise than that. Guess you're up, Liri," he said reluctantly.

Liriel took a deep breath to steady her rapidly beating heart. "It's okay; I've got this," she said, more to herself than to Turondo. She went down on her knees, pressing the palm of her hand against the cold stone of the Swazverai. She let her mind loosen from her body, spreading from the palm of her hand into the surrounding earth and stone. Drifting through the passages of the temple, she felt the tendrils of some unknown, unimaginable, alien presence piercing through the stone, releasing the smell and terrible feelings she had felt from the center of the tendrils, where the roots of madness lay. Seen from this holistic perspective, she knew the exact route they needed to take and etched it into her memory so it would not be forgotten; she had not intentions to do this ever again.

Then, for a moment, she panicked. As she drifted longer and longer, she was unaware of her body, of how to return to it. The center of corruption assailed her, and for a moment, she pierced the veil of intrigue and saw it for what it truly was. A spirit of great power, though perhaps not as great as she had expected, had made its home in here in ancient times, long before the Dark Foe had returned from the West to make Endor his home. Here it had lain, until a call to arms from something akin to, but not quite like, it had bade it stir.

The shock of seeing this picture was enough to startle her back into her fragile body and her friends, where she related what she had seen. No one knew what it was she had described, however. "Never, have you heard of any kind of powerful spirit like this?" she asked.

"Never, in any of my studies, or in any of the teachings of Schulr, have I come across anything like it," Turondo replied, not sure with how to respond to Liriel's vision. Pazij and Guband said that in all their time spent studying the history of this region, they had never come across any stories of such a creature, though if her perception had been accurate, this was probably because there were no people in this region of the world to record any.

"Fascinating though this look into the nature of our foe is, our mission has not changed in any way," Turondo interrupted. "What is the path to take?"

Liriel paused for a moment before she responded, still uneasy from her out-of-body experience. "We should go left. From there, it will be fairly straight, although there will be a few stairs that we will have to go down. This path, as expected, has more things from The Swarm than I would like to see, but there's no way around it. The other paths are either longer and more dangerous, or futile dead ends."

Pazij sighed. "So be it. If that is the way we must go, then we might as well start now."

"Yes!" Guband agreed. "To the left!"

Turondo nodded grimly, making sure that his armor was properly attached, then strode off to the left. The others followed after. Almost immediately, as soon as they had stepped into the room, they were rushed at by two ghouls. Remembering the lessons they had learned from the last time they had encountered ghouls, Pazij brought up a shield of fire. The ghouls rushed headlong into it, and were rapidly incinerated. The ghouls had been leading several lesser corpses of The Swarm. Without the ghouls' leadership, they stopped short of the wall of fire. It only took a few swings of Turondo's sword to end their misery.

Seeing that there was nothing in else in that room, they hurried on through the path that Liriel had seen. Most of their encounters were nothing out of the ordinary. In the end, all members of The Swarm were simple soldiers that out bested all others on the battlefield for two main reasons. One, they were not like ordinary humans. They felt no pain and could fight through any conditions. Two, ordinary humans did not have the magic that Liriel, Pazij, Guband, and Turondo possessed. Although even the mighty armies of Gondor would hesitate before talking on The Swarm, the four had no reason to fear.

Occasionally, things got interesting when they came across a different kind that they had not come across before, similar to how Turondo had trouble with the magic-resistant undead encountered previously. However, they were able to respond quickly even to those situations were soon on their way, prepared for the next time they bumped into that kind again.

First, they ran into what seemed to be a type of ghoul, However, the thing they encountered (and thank Eru there was only one of them when they first met it!) possessed not only extraordinary regeneration, but was also very tough. Though fire still hurt it, it did not die right away. In fact, it even landed a scratch on Pazij. This was not good at all for the abomination. When her careful concentration was broken, Pazij's fire exploded everywhere. The others were not hurt because Guband used her wind to blow the fire in one direction. The thing did not do so well.

Turondo looked over the wound afterwards. Although it wasn't very large, it was still quite painful, and given that they were fighting undead monsters, would almost certainly become infected without treatment. Turondo was forced to waste energy in order to heal it.

The second time, they ran into a group of armed, rather fast corpses. The things rushed at them much faster than they had been expecting, causing Guband to receive a few cuts. However, she reacted very speedily, blasting a fierce gale at the runners, knocking them off their feet and allowing for their quick execution at the hands of Turondo.

Armed with their knowledge of the monsters of the Swazverai, they pushed onward all throughout the day. Although they soon became weary and found it more and more difficult to use their magic with each fight, each time one of them became tired Liriel found a way to encourage them to greatness again. She was desperate that they get near the Thing at the center of the Swazverai.

Finally, they got to a room a few hallways and one floor away. Deciding that it would be unwise to get much closer to the center of The Swarm, Liriel agreed to camp there. Luckily, Turondo went in first, because once more, his protection was not enough. The other three were able to pull him back and restore his sanity, thankfully, or else the mission would have ended in tragedy right there.

As soon as he could, Turondo cast the strongest protection spell that he knew. "**Starshutvordembo**!" he roared. Once the stronger protection was on, they entered the room and set up camp. The big day was tomorrow, and they wanted to be as prepared as possible for it.


	17. Chapter 16

_Sometimes, I have wondered, what is the fate of my people? We currently control the greatest naval empire in the history of the world. The empires of those in Middle-earth can no longer claim to be a match to our grand armada. They also control but a fraction of the amount of land that we control, for we have a great empire of stone and sea._

_But we can claim more than that. On several occasions, we have fought against the disciple of the Dark Foe, Sauron. We rescued the Noldor from his advancing armies and fought his armies again on the shores of Mordor. The second time, we captured him, bringing him back here as a prisoner. Even the Valar failed to imprison him, yet we did not._

_I could go on listing our great many accomplishments. Not just of the conquering variety, but also our great advances in art and science. No one can make ships or buildings like we can. Only the dwarves are our equal when it comes to stone and metal working. We have entire buildings dedicated purely to the display of grand artwork, even entire buildings that are nothing but works of art!_

_However, I worry that we are an empire with no destiny. After all, when we have conquered all that there is too conquer, when we have raised art to a level so high none can surpass it, when there are no technologies to be created, for we have made them all, what happens to us then? What is Ilúvatar's plan for us?_

_Is what the mad whisperings of Sauron suggest, that our fate is to overthrow the Valar? Such thoughts are laced with heresy, and my hand shudders to write them in this book that is otherwise noble and pure. However, Sauron is no longer the only one whispering of these things. He now has worshippers who see him as more a lesser Vala than a Maia (for the difference is slight and subtle). Even Ar-Pharazôn is beginning to be swayed by these opinions. I see how he moves deeper and deeper into the shadow with each setting of the Sun._

_Even if (and again, I hate to write these words), we were to give in to Despair and attack Valinor, then what? If, by some foul machination of the Enemy, we somehow won that encounter, what would become of us then? Sauron claims that we would become immortal gods, more powerful than the Elves, but Sauron claims many things. Even his most ardent supporters see that this claim is rarefied nonsense._

_Clearly though, if Valinor became ours, it would not be long before we ruled the rest of the world. The Elves would likely become powerless to stop us, and the minute countries of mere Men would quickly fall under our glorious banner._

_And then what? What does Eru say become of us then? Or is it as Sauron says? Is there no One who created us in the beginning? When we kill the Valar, is there no longer a hand writing in the pages of the universe our destinies; now we look for ourselves to see how the universe moves and does not move?_

_With each passing day, I fear more for our future, because I believe that if we continue to listen to Sauron, nothing good can happen to us. Even should we somehow "win" and become the new powers of this world, what have we truly won? We have the key to unlock our cage, but doing so only shows us that there are cages outside no key can unlock. Or, even worse, our cage was meant to keep us in, but only because the Valar and Ilúvatar could conceive of now better way to keep what lurks outside from coming in. May Eru have mercy on our souls._

-From _the Abridged Journals of __Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>Aulenmir wandered home in the darkness, not entirely aware of his surroundings. The thick clouds blocked out what little sunlight was left at this time, and the swirling snow would have made it impossible to see much even if there had been a credible source of illumination present. Anyone not as experienced as Aulenmir was in these mountains would have been lost.<p>

However, Aulenmir had not been living in the Ered Nimrais for the past several years without an understanding of its layout. For starters, he knew that if he stayed out of the trees, he would be following the only path on this mountain that was actually walkable. He also knew that if he just followed that path downhill, he would eventually return to his house.

Though at first he ran, trying to escape the cries of the corvids that flocked to the unburied dead, he could not keep that pace up in heavy snows. Especially not after the trauma of the past two days. So, he soon settled into a rapid walk. He passed by the Ephûl war camp, which was deserted. Every single one of the tribe that had been able to respond to Jamai's call had come, and each of those people had fought, regardless of age or gender or strength.

Aulenmir was sure it had been the same for the Keraq'ar. This had been an all-out war for both sides, with only one winner and one loser. The Ephûl had only these mountains as their home and could not afford to let someone else take over. Aulenmir didn't quite know the origins of the Keraq'ar, but he assumed they were refugees of some sort, seeking to make their home in a safer part of the world. Unfortunately, the White Mountains was not that place.

It took Aulenmir the greater part of the night to return home. When he finally got back, the clouds and snow were gone, replaced by a grey, star-studded night. It was a few hours before dawn and the sky was already beginning to color itself for the next day. Aulenmir let himself inside and, taking care not to disturb Peladin and Sirilfa, crept into his room.

Noldolma was there waiting for him, and of course she jumped all over him, glad he was home safe and sound. She was clever enough not to make any noise other, and restrained herself to frenetic licking and panting. After shoving her off, Aulenmir crept into his bed and fell fast asleep, dreaming troubled dreams of bloody snow, bloody sand, and three blood-stained temples.

When he awoke again, it was nearly noon. He could hear Peladin and Sirilfa outside, taking care of various chores as he had shown them earlier. Aulenmir smiled to himself. It seemed as though they had grown up so fast; here they were, taking care of themselves with just a little push from him. In the end, it looked like he had something to thank Jamai for.

Aulenmir took care of several chores within the house, including cleaning up a few things inside (Peladin and Sirilfa still had a few things to learn about neatness), and cleaning up his bookshelf, which looked like it had been reorganized by someone to make finding certain books easier. However, that someone had messed up the order that Aulenmir liked his books to be arranged in, so he spent most of his time reordering.

Knowing that they would undoubtedly be very hungry after the long day, and that they probably hadn't been eating as well as they would if he was there, Aulenmir also began setting up dinner for that night. He wanted them to eat early, because he was planning on finishing the story up within the next few days so they could talk about a few others things of importance.

He had just finished when Peladin and Sirilfa came back inside, arguing, of course.

"It's your turn to clean the cutlery," said, Peladin, doing his best to establish order.

"Nuh uh," cried Sirilfa. "I'm reading tonight, so you get to clean."

"Who said you get to read tonight?" asked Peladin, clearly feeling as though his very world was assaulted by his sister's lack of order. "If anyone's reading it'll be-"

"Me," said Aulenmir, stepping away from his bookshelf into the kitchen. Immediately, the two siblings broke off their arguing. They instantly surrounded Aulenmir, hugging and kissing him, and begging to hear stories of what had happened to him.

Aulenmir, while gratified to see their love for him, was in no mood to talk about what had happened with the Ephûl anytime soon. So, after he had shaken them off of him, he told the children that after they ate the dinner he had prepared, they would continue with the story. And so, that is what they did.

* * *

><p>The first time Ancalimë ever saw a boy was when she was seven. An errand boy came to her farm from a distant farm. Ancalimë wandered across him as he was eating food. She stared at him curiously as he stared back, utterly without concern for her rank. He offered her a loaf of food, telling her she was pretty.<p>

"Get away, you vagrant!" cried one of the women who lived with Ancalimë. "Go and take that message home to your mother, Ibal!"

Ibal laughed, jumped up, and began running away, saying, "I'm glad you've got such a close eye on here, grandmother Zamîn!" He then leapt over a fence and went back to her home.

Zamîn clucked her tongue at him. She was an old country woman, and didn't take nonsense from anyone, not even Ancalimë's mother. She wasn't in the least bothered by her, and usually ignored Erendis' instructions on how to interact with Ancalimë. So, when Ancalimë asked her next question, she was willing to answer.

"What was that?" asked Ancalimë.

"Hmmm? Oh, I guess you've never really met a boy before. They tend to be loud, obnoxious, and always eating. That one in particular fits those qualities. However, one day he'll grow up to be a fine productive man. When his father returns, he will be wonderfully older and more mature. Like some others in these lands."

"He has a father?" she asked, still very inquisitive.

"Yes, definitely. His name is Ulbar, although some would call him Sheep-lord. He is in fact distantly related to you, for though he be a shepherd, he is distantly related to the King in Armenelos. He tends the sheep of the great lord in the South."

"Why is he not here?"

Zamîn snorted. "He went off the sail the seas with your father, Lord Aldarion. He's gone know, and has been gone for several years. Valar knows where or why."

Ancalimë then left, feeling a vague sense of unease. She had grown up not really knowing who her father was, and she had never heard him named that way before. Later that day, she asked her mother about it.

Erendis was shocked, for she had never before really talked about Ancalimë's father to her. "Why do you ask?" she said, trying to stay calm.

Ancalimë didn't respond to her question, instead asking "When will he return?"

Erendis became ice-cold. "I don't know, nor do I care. All that matters is that you have a caring mother who will never abandon you. So long as you stay by me, that is." Ancalimë did not ask about her father again.

A pleasant, lonely year passed, followed by another. Springs, summers, and autumns came and went, until word came that the air was bringing Aldarion back. However, Erendis did not speak of this to others, and forbade it from being spoken about Númenor.

So it was that Aldarion found himself returning to an empty quay when his long voyage ended. He was more than a little surprised, as he had thought his long-awaited return would be filled with people overjoyed to have him back. Instead, only the harsh croaking of the gulls greeted his men and him.

He went to his house but found that it had been abandoned, with no indication why. Most importantly, Erendis was also not there to welcome him back, nor was his daughter, who he did not know. Nor was there anyone nearby able or willing to help Aldarion.

Aldarion decided that the first thing he would do is go to Meneldur, his father, and be received by him. However, the welcome he was given was far from the one that he had hoped for. Meneldur seemed less like a father now, and more like a noble King. And Aldarion felt less like his son, or even the crown prince, but rather a proud, surly admiral unwilling to work under his great commander-in-chief.

"Long have you tarried from the straightforward path that should bring you into full glory," Meneldur intoned, doing his very best to display his full displeasure. "Many more years than three have passed since you left us."

Aldarion grimaced, and swallowed bitterly. He kneeled down in front of his King. "My liege, I am aware of this. Many were the times were I felt the strain of being away from home for so long. Great is the count of nights were I cried thinking of my poor daughter who I could not be there to raise. But the need of countless other daughters of men was greater.

"For, although I could not bear to leave, I could not bring myself to return. In my absence, many great projects that will make this world great had failed. Without me there, the miniscule empires of Middle-earth fell into ruin. Disorder and pain rule without me."

Meneldur sat unmoved by Aldarion's plea. "I am sure that is true. Yet, I fear you will find the same is true here."

"I had worried as much, and that is something I will try to mend soon. But we cannot ignore the plight of Middle-earth. Many long years have passed in brightness since our ancestors bravely struggled with the forces of the West against the Black Foe of the World, and since then the memories of a brave new world have faded.

"Men no longer sing of the glory of the Eldar and the Valar. Those tales have sunk into the dusty twilight of this new era. There is much which I wish to tell you in detail about how the situation has deteriorated."

After considering his son's words, Tar-Meneldur softened marginally. "It is good that you come to me with these concerns, and I agree that we must talk at length. However, he who has a broken house cannot be expected to mend the house of others. There is something else that I believe needs to be taken care of first and foremost. My son, I say to thee: return home!"

Aldarion gritted his teeth and stood straight once more. "Father, that too seems to have fallen to disorder. If you know where my home be, then tell me."

Meneldur raised an eyebrow. "Do you not know? Home is where your wife is. And, as you have given her no particular reason to hold to her word, she saw fit to return to her home. She dwells in Emerië, in the center of this land, with her daughter."

"Had someone thought to alert of this development, I could have skipped this meeting entirely and seen to my other half at once. At least I can be glad that you were willing to give me this priceless gem of information and I did not have to beg for it."

Aldarion presented a sealed letter to Tar-Meneldur. "This letter is but one example of the troubles that plague Middle-earth, even among the Eldar." He then left the room. Soon, he had saddled up a horse and rode off to Emerië. He brought along two companions, Ulbar, the aforementioned father of Ibal, and Henderch of the Westlands.

The three men rode their horses hard, and stopped only a few times on the course of their journey. By the night of the day after they had left the presence of Tar-Meneldur, the three had reached the end. In the setting sun, Erendis' house seemed ominous and proud. Aldarion blew upon his horn to let her know that he had at last returned.

As he rode up to the house and dismounted, Aldarion saw Erendis gaze at him from the steps leading up to her magnificent house. She seemed especially pale in the twilight, and her eyes shone brightly.

"Late you have come, my Lord," she said. "I'm afraid that I long stopped expecting your return, as did the rest of us. Unfortunately, there will be no great welcome for you, my returning hero, although had you arrived six years prior then there would be something more than that for you."

Aldarion put a smile on his face. "All is fine. I am a mariner, and we are not hard to please."

"Good," was her only reply. She then turned on him and strode back inside, leaving him at the door. As she walked inside, Aldarion followed her in. At the same time, several women, including an old crone, moved down the steps. The old crone spoke to the men, making sure they would definitely hear her.

"No longer is this your home. Eat instead at the housing at the bottom of the hill!"

Ulbar remained calm. "Fret not, Zamîn. I will go home as soon as my master is settled in here. I trust all is well there, with you watching over?"

Zamîn snorted. "Your son goes on eating and eating; I doubt you will recognize each other. However, you should seek out the truth for yourself, for how would I know what is happening in your own household. For sure, I can tell you that you will receive a happier greeting than your Master shall."

Erendis had moved further into the house by the time Aldarion stepped into the opening hallway. He was led by several servants into a dining hall with a table set with an evening meal. However, Erendis did not join him for his meal. However, she did come down to talk to him after he had finished with his meal.

"You must be very tired after your long ride," she said sympathetically. "But do not worry. I have prepared a more than adequate guest-room for you, when you are ready for it. My servants will gladly report for your every need."

Aldarion did not reply, not trusting himself to stay civil in his response. He contented himself with retiring earlier and falling into a deep sleep. He dreamed only of Valinor, forgetting for a time the mortal pressures of Númenor and Middle-earth.

He dreamed of wide fields filled with flowers that no longer blossomed in Middle-earth. He saw the terrifying height of mountains that even the great Hithaeglir are only a mere shadow of, raised by Morgoth in an attempt the thwart Oromë and the elves. He caught a tiny glimpse of the old light that once lit that radiant land, in a time before there was despair. But then, he was jerked back to reality.

A cock crowed loudly in the distance and Aldarion sat up in bed. It did not take long for him to recall the events of the previous day. From there, he had soon forgotten the peace of his dream and was instead fairly irate. He decided to avoid having to deal with Erendis directly; it was clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Yes, that was the only reason he didn't want to face her.

Aldarion resolved to instead find Henderch and ride south to Hyarostar. There, he would meet with his kinsman, Hallatan (whose family prided themselves on being closely related to Haleth), sheep-lord of Hyarastorni. From there, he would send word to Erendis to bring his daughter to Armenelos. It would be best not to fight her on her own ground.

However, as he stepped out of his room, Erendis came upon him. She looked as though she had not slept for the entire night. For a moment, Aldarion wished that Erendis could have shared the dream he had with her, but sighed inwardly. He felt that it was not to be.

Erendis was the first one to break the silence. "I see that you intend to leave already, my lord. How incongruous that is with the time you took in arriving here. It seems as though you are a mariner through and through; having been bored by the women of this house you will continue on to the next one." She paused for a moment, taking a careful look at Aldarion's face. He said nothing, but she went regardless.

"Oh? Was that not your purpose here? Then, by Eru, what was your business. Or does that not concern the likes of me?"

Aldarion answered, ignoring her baiting words. "I was told by Tar-Meneldur that I would find my wife and my daughter in this dwelling in the hills of Emerië. Having been here, I now know that what he said about my wife was not true, but what of my daughter? Do I have one still?"

"Years ago you could have," she responded. "As for whether you still have, well she has yet to awaken."

"Then let her do so," he said, "While I fetch my horse. I will at least meet with her before I go." He then turned away from Erendis and went to go find where his horse had been stabled.

Erendis deliberated on whether or not she would let Ancalimë meet with Aldarion. Personally, she had no inclination to do so, for somewhat apparent reasons. She did not see Aldarion as any sort of father with rights over her or her daughter. She also did not want to lose the monopoly she had on Ancalimë's love, something she did not have with Aldarion.

However, despite her inclinations, she did not wish to lose the favor of the King outright. For though Meneldur and Almarian wished that Aldarion and Erendis remain together, if Erendis was to lose their favor she believed that they would switch to supporting Aldarion. So, she allowed them to meet.

When Aldarion and Henderch returned on their horses, Erendis was there to see them off. Ancalimë stood stiff on the threshold next to her, making no attempt at courtesy towards either man. "Who are you?" she asked. "Why do you ask that I, and no one else, arise early so that you may leave?"

Aldarion looked upon her strictly, but within he was joyous and smiling. For while Erendis looked at Ancalimë and saw only her own child, Aldarion saw that she was a child in the mark of him, despite what Erendis had attempted to do.

Keeping his face unsmiling, he replied, "Long ago, you knew me and I knew you, Lady. However, today I am just a messenger from the King in Armenelos. You are bidden to be reminded that you are the daughter of the King's heir, and undoubtedly you will be his heir after that. Remember, that his house will not forever be your dwelling.

"Now, I must bid thee farewell, for the King undoubtedly desires my company once again. Good day!" Aldarion kissed Ancalimë's hand. The only token of affection he showed for Erendis was to wave his hand at her as he rode off in the distance.

Erendis watched him riding away from the comfort of her household and noted with despair that he rode not toward Armenelos but instead toward Hyarastorni. Then, she cried, in part out of grief that he had gone, but in part anger at herself.

Too late, she had realized that Aldarion did not see himself at fault anywhere near as much as Erendis saw him. Rather than taking her rebukes as opportunities to redeem himself, he instead chose to either ignore or go through those veiled accusations.

Rather than ask for forgiveness, which she so desperately wished to give, Aldarion had acted as though he were right and she and Ancalimë where the ones who had left the straightforward path. She now saw Aldarion as Núneth had warned her so long ago: quite powerful and not easily tamed. Fell and reckless, driven more than she had once thought, and deadly once cold. Like the sea that he coveted. Then and there, Erendis swore to herself that Aldarion would not find her so easy to master. "He may be the ocean, but I am the steel that not even his waves can corrode, but only the heat of our love can shape. He will find that out, even when he becomes King!"

As for himself, Aldarion rode to Hyarastorni, the hall where Hallatan, sheep-lord of the Southeast, ruled. He more than took his time on the journey, not eager to repeat the two-day ride he had made to visit Erendis. Instead, he took his time to enjoy the beautiful land that one day he would grow up to rule.

Although Mittalmar wasn't especially pretty, certainly not during the rainy season that Númenor experienced when most places had winter, it still looked lovely in the Prince's eyes. He took his sweet time, spending an entire day crossing the Siril, which was a quite lovely river that flowed from Meneltarma.

He came near Hyarastorni and saw that the shepherds were celebrating the return of Ulbar. They were feasting and dancing in the meadow in front of the household. Aldarion saw Ulbar's wife playing the pipes so that the others had a beat to set their jig to. Aldarion smiled, glad to see that not all were separated as he.

However, Aldarion was soon observed. Ulbar saw him on his horse in the distance and called, "The Great Captain!" Aldarion's mood turned sour, reminded once again of his troubles. Ibal ran over to Aldarion's horse. "Lord Captain!" he cried out in joy. For most of his life, he had been inspired by the stories Zamîn told of Aldarion's wicked ways. Not quite the effect she had intended to have.

"What?" asked Aldarion shortly. "I must continue on to Armenlos!"

"I just wanted to ask when a man is ready to go on the seas."

Aldarion laughed and answered acridly: "You may set sail when you are older than this island, and have nothing tying you to it. Or whenever you like; for such is the nature of the sea. Now, son of Ulbar, where is your mother, for I wish to talk to her."

Ulbar's wife came forward and Aldarion took her hand. "Madam, I must thank you for what your husband has done. For six years, he has given me aid unasked for. I will give you this for my thanks for allowing your husband to be mind, even if for a brief time." From his pocket, Aldarion took out a magnificent golden ring that had a glorious red gem set into it. "This come from the King of Elves, who will undoubtedly saw that I made an excellent choice with my giving of gifts."

Aldarion left as quickly as he had come, soon riding away over the hills. Hallatan heard of his strange visit and wondered at it, as did the other people of Mittalmar. He told Henderch to go where he will, he had business back in Rómenna. Although Henderch protested against his dismissal, even though it was wanted, Aldarion told him that was the way of the world. Then, they parted ways and Aldarion left, never to return to Emerië again.

* * *

><p>"Wow, we sure covered a lot of ground, Unca," Sirilfa said. She yawned before continuing, "Are Erendis and Aldarion ever going to get back together?"<p>

Aulenmir smiled. "Well, I think that is a story for another day. Actually, at this rate we will probably have this story finished in no time at all."

Peladin also had a question he wanted to ask. "What was Aldarion so busy doing, exactly?"

Aulenmir shrugged. "The records don't give many specific examples. Likely, he was doing a lot of work helping and advising the various kingdoms and tribes that still dominated Middle-earth at the time. He also would have worked hard to make sure that someone was keeping the forests and the havens in order. He may even had begun to encounter the forces of Sauron at this time, though he didn't know it."

"Thanks, Aulenmir!" the children cried. Aulenmir smiled at them and sent them off to bed. Once they were gone, the smile slipped away.


	18. Chapter 17

_Sometimes, I feel as though despair has reached Ar-Pharazôn. In many ways, he acts like one of the many I have known to be afflicted by this condition. He seems to believe that there are few solutions left before, and the one offered by Sauron appears more and more tempting. How can he be so blind as to see that he is drinking from the same cup as the Black Enemy?_

_I have defined the concept of despair as seeing only the end, and nothing else to life. Morgoth despaired when he saw that, in the end, the Valar would not be the masters of this world but would instead be helpers and guiders to the actions of the First and Second born. This is why he fell; he could not stand the knowledge that he would not be supreme of all Eru's creations._

_Sauron also despaired, albeit in a less cosmological way. He believed that in the end, there would be war between Morgoth and the Valar that would leave one side utterly destroyed. Only looking at this final outcome, he did not care for what would happen in the intervening time, only that he needed to be on the winning side. He chose an eternity of suffering under his master's control so that he would one day win._

_Even some of the Elves have despaired over the course of their mighty lives. How could we forget Fëanor, who saw only the beauty of the Silmarils, and thus followed a path that lead to the death and destruction of all those around him, and the eternal sundering of the Firstborn? And let us not forget the others who perished thinking only of the Silmarils: Maedhros, Caranthir, Curufin, Celegorm, Amrod, and Amras, Fëanor's sons, Elu Thingol, Beren, Lúthien, and Dior, from Doriath. I could go on forever, listing the consequences of Fëanor's despair, but eventually I'd either have listed every person alive today or run out of paper._

_And now I think that Ar-Pharazôn sees only that one day he will, for sure die. He seeks any means possible to prevent this fate. At first, he consulted with philosophers, to see if they had some great cure for him. However, they had no suggestions and no answers, except to say that death was Eru's gift to the Secondborn, their way to transcend the Music of Creation._

_He next consulted those who believed in the Valar and were learned in the nature of Eä. They could only give him the same answer, adding on that perhaps the answer he sought was a change of perspective. After all, given the story of Beren and Lúthien, it seemed likely that at the very least his soul would survive in some form. All he needed to do was renounce his desire for earthly being._

_Tired of the answers of learned men, he went on to the alchemists, to see what miracles they could offer him. Given their lack of an ability to perform the other tasks they had set out to do, namely, transmute the elements, it was hardly a surprise to me at least that they also had found no ways to eternal life, not even the famed Philosopher's Stone._

_Then he went to the necromancers, who told him that what they could give him would hardly be the kind of immortality that he desired. He was informed that some Elves were reportedly working on ways of making Immortal beings, but had not succeeded before being utterly destroyed by their kin._

_So, I fear that he will finally listen to Sauron's lies. For years, Sauron has been denouncing the words of the Valar as false and fraudulent. He pronounces that immortality will belong to all who enter into Valinor, especially those who will aid in the freeing of the "true" god, Melkor._

_Although it makes me ill to write those words, it is what he says. And I think that my King, the ruler of the greatest nation upon Arda, has given into his despairing ways. May he see the way of truth._

_-_From _the Abridged Journals of __Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>The next morning was beautiful, as it should be. Although, Telimperion noted, it was unfortunately colder and more overcast. However, the air still smelled lovely and the wind was more refreshing than freezing. Somewhat fitting, considering what they were setting out to do today. Today, they would find a necromancer who could fix Tu-Ankh.<p>

Last night, before returning to the inn, Telimperion had told Síthiel to ask the other elves and their various contacts to actively search for a necromancer. Telimperion was aware that it would be somewhat difficult to locate an actual practicing necromancer. However, Minas Tirith was probably the largest city in the world at this time. If an actual practicing necromancer could be located, it would be here.

Telimperion hoped dearly that the Elves would have good news for them when they came to the Expedition's headquarters. She shook Tu-Ankh awake and they both readied themselves for the day very quickly. They left the inn and walked very quickly to the section of the city where they were located.

Síthiel was sitting at a table inside for them, a worried look on her face. She looked up at them when they entered, but she was still very grim looking. Tu-Ankh, on the other hand, was all smiles. "Hey, Síthiel! How did the search for a necromancer go?"

Síthiel was not brightened by his enthusiasm. "As you can imagine, the search for a necromancer that would be willing to work with us wasn't easy. After all, the art has been frowned upon by pretty much literally everyone since the dawn of time."

"Come on, just give us the good bits."

Síthiel managed to put on a look of fake hurt. "What, you don't want to hear of my thrilling hunt?"

"If you were able to find them between last night and right now, you can't have had that hard of a time."

Síthiel narrowed her eyes. "One day, when I tell you exactly how I was able to find a necromancer in that miniscule amount of time, you will bow down and worship me as a goddess. However, I guess in the meanwhile I'll settle for providing you with the information you need. As a result of my investigation, I was able to find two potential necromancers. You will have to pick one of them."

Telimperion looked curiously at Síthiel. "Why only one?"

Síthiel glanced up at her. "As far as I can tell these two necromancers are pretty big rivals of each other, at least in the underworld-"

Tu-Ankh snorted loudly. Síthiel fixed him with a glare that would have killed any other man, then continued on. "At least in the underworld circles that they frequent. People tend to either support one or the other, with few willing to give both an open ear. I think the schism has something to do with the style of necromancy they practice, but really has more to do with what families they come from.

"Additionally, both of these men have at least a few men buried in the other's network, as well as other means, both natural and supernatural, of obtaining information. This means that when we visit one, the other will know almost right away. And you can be certain that they are more likely to kill you to scare away competition from their rival than to help you."

Telimperion nodded. "Makes sense."

"So, who are these men that we can see?" asked Tu-Ankh.

"Well, I was getting to that," Síthiel said, somewhat irritated. "The first man goes only by Smurt. He is reputed to be the smarter of the two, but he is therefore also more dangerous and harder to get a deal out of. Dealing with him will not only be tricky, but dangerous. Additionally, he is known to be somewhat volatile, and even a little mentally unstable at times. However, of the two, he is undoubtedly the more powerful necromancer.

"The other's name is Strash Chovek. He is not quite as smart or powerful as Smurt. However, he makes up for it with his incredibly good charisma. He has a deep network of people working for him that make for his lack of strong necromantic powers and that have put him in touch with powerful sources that wouldn't otherwise be willing to work. Those are your choices."

Tu-Ankh frowned. "Essentially, I am picking between a powerful, yet dangerous man, or a weaker, yet more resourceful man. At first, I leaned toward the man that was the more dangerous option, since if he could do anything to hurt me, my problem would pretty much solved anyway. Then, I considered that he could take revenge on you guys, and decided that it might be better to go for the guy with more resources, as those contacts could know something we don't, like how best to contact the Shapet."

Telimperion spoke up. "Personally, I think that if Strash knew how to contact a remnant of the Shapet, there would be no competition with him at all. I had been thinking about them ever since you mentioned them, and I remember my brother mentioning them once. From what I recall, they were not forces to be messed with. Some of the wisest minds of the Noldor left after Sauron destroyed Eregion were included in their ranks."

"You make a fair point. But what about your personal safety?"

"I feel like I'm going to have to say this a lot. I do not care what happens to me, so long as you find a way to set yourself free. You are my goal in this world, and I will do anything to have is be met."

The other elves had slowly filed in as Telimperion had begun talking. Each one of them spoke right as she finished, saying they didn't care, let the necromancers try to hurt them, they could take it. Several emphatic nods followed these proclamations.

Tu-Ankh looked around at all the serious faces on everyone's face. All eight of the elves were there, as well as Telimperion. Each looked very ready to back up what they were saying, as though they would each individually storm a castle for him. Tu-Ankh was not very used to getting this much love from people.

He laughed, somewhat out of love, and a little out of nervousness. "Well, I'm glad you are all so eager to support me. You people do realize that we can't all go to visit the necromancer, yes?"

"Which one will you pick?" Telimperion asked.

"I don't think I really have much of a choice except for Smurt. Clearly, we are all agreed that the potential powers outweigh the dangers he represents. So, who's going? Obviously, Telimperion will be coming, but which amongst the eight of you will be coming?"

Baidhrif stepped forward. "We have a protocol for who is on outgoing missions. Raudael is far too valuable to the expedition to put directly into the direct grasp of the necromancer. A similar reasoning applies to Arodrad and Ivorchu. And while I would love to serve the two of you, I fear that Lord Erestor would not appreciate my vacating of my position.

"So, I will nominate Síthiel and Helgalad to go with you. Síthiel for her expertise and Helgalad for her knowledge of the city and the time she spent liberating East Lórien from the Shadow." He turned towards to two aforementioned elves. "Of course, the two of you may refuse-"

He couldn't even get the sentence out before the two women interrupted him. "Out of the question. I am going," said Síthiel. Helgalad nodded. "I could not let them down now."

"All right, then. It's settled. I suggest we leave as soon as convenient." Tu-Ankh said firmly.

* * *

><p>Mermacil awoke the next morning very sore and stiff from having slept on the ground in a tent with meager forms of protection from the sandy desert. Months of having slept in a room in Minas Ithil had not prepared him for any kind of action. Although he had been sleeping in a similar fashion for the past few days, he still had not gotten quite used to it yet. <em>I need to do more work in the field<em>, he though ruefully to himself.

Kith'tar was already awake and was mediating in a corner of the tent. Eläre, on the other hand, appeared to still be sleeping, so Mermacil decided to step outside so as to not accidently wake her or distract Kith'tar.

The sun had just barely begun to rise, and the sky was a beautiful shade of pink. There were no clouds in the sky, and Mermacil could look fully on the sun, which seemed larger and redder than normal. It was almost a foreshadowing of the blood that was sure to be spilled later on in the day.

A messenger walked up to Mermacil, who was still looking up in the sky. He was a young orc, and he probably had seen few battles before. He stood in front of Mermacil and said, "I have a message to deliver to you from the Master Tactician."

"Good. What is the message?"

"He wishes you to know of the battle plan for today. It is simply said, but not easy to pull off. We will put a company of soldiers in there to lure their larger force into the vale. Hopefully, they will fall for our front at those being the only soldiers we are able to field and will rush in. I know for a fact that they have been traveling with little sleep for some time now, which should affect their decisions.

"Once they have entered the Vale of Durmik, our archers will rain down arrows from above onto them. We also will reserves in case they have sent soldiers around the vale. With a little luck this plan should give us victory with least amount of casualties."

Mermacil was silent after the messenger finished his recitation. He considered carefully Nosôros' words, then spoke. "That seems to be a good plan. What does the good tactician plan for me to do while all this fighting goes on?"

"He wants the three of you to assist him in running the battle from up here. In fact, he's requesting your presence pretty much right now."

Mermacil smiled. "Okay, that sounds simple enough. I'll wake up the others and let them know. Thank you."

The messenger smiled back. "'snot a problem," he said, walking back to the Master Tactician.

Mermacil strode back into the camp. Eläre had just begun to wake up, it appeared. Kith'tar was still sitting in a corner. "All right, everyone, let's get moving. We've been given our instructions and Master Tactician Nosôros is requesting our presence immediately."

Eläre struggled to her feet. Kith'tar opened his eyes and began grabbing the things he would need for the day. Mermacil went back outside and waited for them. Within two minutes, the two were outside with him and they headed over to the High Command's tent.

Nosôros and Athros were both inside, waiting for them to get there. Athros gave them a short smile. "I'm glad to see you still here," he said. "We will most definitely have need of your services before the day is over. I'm going to be using the three of you to observe here so that you can report more accurately on the overall conditions of both armies when you return to Gondor. From outside this tent, we will have one of the best views of the battle. In fact, I suggest that we head outside right now."

Athros wasn't lying. From behind the tent, a clear view of the Vale was present, as well as the majority of both sides on the upper ground. Mermacil could see the platoon of soldiers already beginning to pack in, doing their best to seem as though they were in a rush and were Drakarator's desperate effort to save itself. The tents above were being taken down by the reserves, who were doing their best to hide the encampment and the troops lying in wait up there. The archers had largely taken shelter behind a clump of rocks. There seemed to be about 400 of them.

"Where did you get all these people from?" asked Kith'tar. "I didn't see that many people in the army according to Kapagund's information."

"Although we only have a few hundred in the actual standing army, life in Nurn is not easy, as I'm sure you are aware. Most of the people living in Drakarator are fighters, one way or another.

"We keep an eye out on those who are well-known for their fighting skills in case of events like this. We were able to acquire these assets once it is known that we were going to need them and add them to our core army. In addition, several people came forward and volunteered their services. Some of these people we added to the army, though most wound up becoming part of our reserves.

"This system has allowed us to spend a great deal of time training the men in our army to become great archers, although, once again, some of the people that make up our archery company come from the civilians as well. Our men down in the Vale of Durmik should be able to keep the orcs distracted long enough for our archers to make short work of them." Athros smiled grimly as he stared intently down into the valley.

"I'm impressed that you were able to mobilize nearly a thousand soldiers so quickly," said Eläre.

"Well, once again, remember that we live under almost constant threat. This is hardly the first large angry group of orcs to gather in Mordor, simply the largest. Not to mention that we are under threat from other regions of Nurn that desire the valuable area we occupy. As the "border city", or so we are called. We are actually a vital part of Nurn. Anyone who wants to get in or leave from the North will probably pass through. It's why we are one of the greatest towns of this area. We have many protocols in place to defend ourselves, and a ready army is one of them."

Mermacil saw the truth of what Athros was saying. Looking at the archers that were training away from the Vale, he saw how accurate and steady their shots were, even at a distance. He had no doubt that with just a little help from the forces down below, they would have no problem sinking their arrows into the orcs.

And, looking down on the men below, Mermacil felt confident that they would succeed in their given task as well. Although they were doing their best to seem like a ragged, last-minute put together army, Mermacil had experienced working with armies before, and he could tell that underneath their act, each of these men brimmed with confidence. Each one knew what their role was, and how to perform it.

"Look!" called Eläre. Mermacil strained his eyes to see what it was she was looking at in the distance.

Athros apparently saw what it was first. "You have good eyes for a scribe. I'll remember that for the next time we meet." Seeing that Mermacil and Kith'tar hadn't quite grasped what Eläre had seen, he took pity on them. "See that cloud of dust near the upper end of the Vale?" he asked.

Now that it was pointed out to him, Mermacil felt blind for not having seen it before. He understood the significance almost instantly. "They must be traveling pretty fast to be raising that much dust," he observed.

Athros smiled viciously. "That's what I'm hoping for. The more tired and exhausted they are from their journey here, the more likely they are to fall here." He beckoned an aid to his side. "Please inform everyone to finish their preparations and to get in place." The aid nodded and scurried off to do as was asked of him.

"They'll probably slow down right…about…now," he said. Sure enough, the dust cloud began to dissipate as the orcs began moving more slowly. "I'm sure their advance scouts have reported our forces in the Vale. However, I doubt that they have seen our forces up here. These tents were specially made in order to look like the sand surroundings. They have no idea."

Mermacil was a little scared by how vicious Athros sounded. He could see by the look on Eläre's face that she felt the same way. Kith'tar, somewhat unsurprisingly, was unmoved.

Within an hour, the front of the orc army had reached the opening of the Vale of Durmik. Even from his high vantage point, Mermacil could see some of the signs of exhaustion that Athros had been hoping for. They had no real order to their army, and instead of marching in their pace could be better described as a crawl. That is, until they saw the enemy army. At that point, all semblance of order in their army broke down and they charged at the people of Drakarator.

And the army of Drakarator resisted them beautifully. Fully abandoning their appearance as a worthless army made of the few who could be made to fight, they revealed their true nature as a grim fighting machine. Quickly set up in formation, they bravely bore the brunt of the orcish assault.

The orcs were unprepared for the display of order from the defenders. Most of them had charged in expecting that they would easily overwhelm their opponents, not to have this amount of resistance. Many broke off from their charge abruptly, causing further confusion in the ranks behind them. Others were forced to stop because they simply could not physically advance forward against the Drakatorim.

At this point, some commander from within their midst knew that he would have to take over or else they would be destroyed by the front line of defenders alone. At least, Mermacil assumed that this was the reason that the orcs began advancing forwards again. Mermacil winced to see that when they began advancing forward, they started overwhelming the first line of defenders, pushing past them into the second line.

However, this was exactly what Nosôros had been betting on. The moment that the orcs had advanced further, they could no longer easily retreat backwards. It was at this point that the archers moved out of their cover and began to shoot down on the orcs.

The orcs weren't unarmored, so it was not immediately a slaughter. However, most of the archers were using arrows that were designed to penetrate armor, which they could use with more ease than normal, since they were shooting at the orcs from above. In addition, armor could not cover everywhere, and the constant pouring of arrows ensured that almost everywhere was hit.

The orcs did not react well to the sudden downpour of arrows. Many tried to panic, only to find that they could not move out of the way thanks to all the other orcs pushing against. The rear line of the orcs was targeted last, so they did not begin fleeing until was largely too late. The reserves also began to file into the Vale from behind, cutting off the retreat of the orcs.

Seeing that the battle was ending, Athros turned to Mermacil, Eläre, and Kith'tar. "Quick, head to the stables!"

"What about my other men?" asked Mermacil.

"They were stationed in our reserves and are also making their way over to the stables. Go, quickly! It is of utmost importance that you report what has happened here to Faramir."

Seeing the intensity in his eyes, Mermacil and the others did not walk, but ran to the stables, where they found five horses, Lt. Samnon, and Hannish awaiting them. Quickly mounting their steeds, they rode back the way they had come, to Minas Ithil.

* * *

><p>Soon, Tu-Ankh, Síthiel, Telimperion, and Helgalad were ready for their intense meeting with Smurt the necromancer. Síthiel was able to give a rough idea of where they needed to go, and from there Helgalad was able to locate them from an ever-increasingly complicated maze of narrow winding streets and alleys.<p>

Telimperion thought that with each step they took, the city around them became more and more disreputable. The streets looked less evenly paved and seemed as though they had not been cleaned by anything human in a long time. At least there was not waste running through the streets, like it was in some cities in the East. Or at least, so Parthekos claimed, the last time that Telimperion spoke with him.

Finally, they were outside of a tall warehouse that looked as though the last time it had stored goods was when Ar-Pharazôn sailed his fleet and landed at Umbar. Telimperion would say that every corner was covered in cobwebs, but it would really be more accurate to say that cobwebs had a few corners behind them.

What paint had first been spread on the wooden exterior had long since faded (or considering some of the markings on the outside of the building burned) away, and it seemed as though any efforts to replace them had been either half-finished or simply unmade.

A group of men stepped out of the shadows by a roof overhanging the exterior of the warehouse. One of them spat on the ground and then spoke. "What kinda business you got in these parts of the city? Doesn't really seem like much of a place fer Elves and whatnot."

Tu-Ankh stepped forward. Even surrounded by the men as he was, he still cut an intimidating sight. He had no reason to be afraid of anything, and it showed. "We seek the necromancer Smurt. Perhaps you've heard of him?" He leaned closer to one of the men. "Perhaps you'd be willing to help us?"

The man ducked back, doing his best, and failing, to look unintimidated. Another man spoke up this time. "Why should we help the likes of you?"

Telimperion spoke this time. "Isn't it in your best interest to get more customers to Smurt?"

The man glared at her. "Watch your tongue, ey? You talk to Smurt like that, and go and kill you as soon as that." He snapped his fingers at Telimperion.

Síthiel decided that it was her turn to speak. "Either tell us what we need to do to get to Smurt, or let us go. Stop wasting our time."

A third man spoke. This one was larger than the other two and had a much deeper voice. "And what if we find this a nice way to spend her time?"

Síthiel's voice was ice cold. "Stop wasting our time or I will waste you."

Yet another man spoke. Telimperion was having trouble keeping track of all the voices. She couldn't even see this man, or a bunch of the others who had yet to speak.

"Our demand is simple. We want all of your money. In return, we will take you to Smurt."

"Out of the question," Helgalad stated calmly. "We can give you a sum, but not all."

The first man smiled. "Well, then. It looks like things might have to get a little…messy." He pulled out a knife. He was not in any way expecting what would happen next.

Síthiel stepped in front of Telimperion, who had drawn out a dagger that no one realized she owned. Helgalad turned around, protecting Telimperion's and Síthiel's backs. The two elves both drew their swords. The elven steel glittered menacingly in the afternoon sun.

However, the biggest transformation came from Tu-Ankh. From a scabbard, for some reason, no one had noticed earlier, he pulled out a surprisingly large sword. The first grunt, thinking that if he could make the first move, the fight would end soon. He was not prepared.

The attack was a well-placed one. He stabbed him right in the stomach, a wound that would have incapacitated and then quickly killed any other man. However, if he was an ordinary man, then Tu-Ankh wouldn't even have to take a knife to the stomach.

Unfortunately, Immortal or not, he still felt pain. In this case, a great deal if it. However, his body began mending itself quickly, and the pain stopped shortly after word. And of course, he was from a spiritual perspective, utterly immune to any such attacks.

Suffice it to say, when Tu-Ankh continued to swing his sword right through the thug, it was not the response that the man was expecting. The man did not quite have the same insurance against death that Tu-Ankh had. And when Tu-Ankh pulled the other man's knife out and continued on his merry way, the man's companions were not at all expecting it. They tried to bolt, but Telimperion grabbed one of them and swiftly disarmed him.

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" asked Síthiel.

"After a certain situation, I decided that learning how to disarm someone who was a better fighter than me would be a good career move. I'll tell you more later if we ever get a nice break from all this."

"I'll hold you to that promise. This sounds like a heavy story."

"All right, don't worry, I've been waiting to tell someone else for a long time."

Helgalad coughed. "If you two are done bonding, we have some interrogation that needs doing over here."

"Oh yeah, I am sorry about that. I suppose that pleasant duty does fall to me, as the designated warrior." She stepped over to the poor thug, then leaned close to him, speaking in soft, almost reassuring tones. For whatever reason, the man didn't seem any more relaxed.

"Now, I'm sure that you want to be here as little as I do. And that means that you're going to cooperate us, or else your time with will be a lot longer and a _lot_ more painful." She leaned in really close and gave one of the craziest smiles that Telimperion had ever had the misfortune to see, for the full effect.

The man whimpered, then, controlling his attempts to sob, promised complete cooperation. "Good," said Síthiel, mercifully toning down her smile to a degree. "I only want to know where Smurt is. That'll be all."

The man stretched out a hand and pointed at a wall of the warehouse. At first, thanks to the awful lighting, Telimperion couldn't see what he was pointing to, until Helgalad with her keen elven eyes said, "oh, a door."

Síthiel smiled. "Thank you, my friend. Your compliance will be rewarded." Tu-Ankh and Telimperion released the man and he scurried back to the shadows. "Good riddance," Síthiel muttered. "At least his breath wasn't as bad as the last one." Telimperion made a mental note to ask for a trade of stories.

The four of them approached the door. Apparently, the thugs had been the only real defense, for it was completely unlocked. Either that, or Smurt was very unafraid of thieves. Telimperion groaned as soon as she stepped inside. Tu-Ankh was about to ask what was the matter when he looked around and saw exactly what was wrong.

The door was only an opening to a series of other doors. It was a maze, just like in the temple of Heizdi. "Not again!" Telimperion, Tu-Ankh, and Síthiel uttered as one. Helgalad, having heard of their previous adventure, just winced with sympathy.

"Well, we have to choose a door at some point. How about the one to the right?" she offered sweetly. Complaining under their breaths, the other three reluctantly followed her. Telimperion really hoped that this wouldn't be as annoying as the last maze they went through, since this time there was absolutely no one who knew where they were going.

Fortunately, it turned out that the necromancer did not have nearly the same crazy amount of preparation time that the priests did. There were only a few rooms within the warehouse maze, and soon they were outside of a door that was actually locked.

Tu-Ankh knocked loudly on the door. "Is this where we can find Smurt the Necromancer?" he called loudly through the door.

A muffled voice came from the inside. "Yes, it is I, Smurt." The door unlocked and turned inward. Inside, there was a man seated a large, almost throne-like chair. He appeared to have unlocked the door from a distance, which even Tu-Ankh admitted was an impressive feat. He was a tall man, probably over six feet where he to stand. He dressed in black robes that looked at least somewhat expensive, though it was difficult to tell in the poorly lit room.

A group of candles were lit, again from afar. Although he was no wizard, it was clear that this man possessed at least a trickle of true influence over the world. "I see that you were able to get around the safe guards of my lair. I'm glad that you would go so far to get here. Few are those who will willingly seek me out. Now, tell me why you have come."

Tu-Ankh laid out his entire story before the necromancer. When he first mentioned the Shapet, a sharp hissing noise came from the necromancer. "What did you just say?" he asked in anger.

"The group that took me where known as the Shapet. They were a group of powerful Elves-"

"I know just what they are," said Smurt. "For many years, I have struggled to understand their writings and cryptic messages from the past and of the future." Telimperion could have sworn she say an ugly smile form on his lips. "Continue."

So, Tu-Ankh went on with his story, describing how the Elves and the priests of Heizdi had given him similar advice. He had no choice but to either find a necromancer who could free the bonds binding his spirit to his body, find a way to utterly destroy himself, or seek out one of the Shapet themselves, even though they were purportedly all killed.

Once he had finished, Smurt spoke immediately, with an intense gleam in his eyes. "The tricky part of what the Shapet did was to bind your soul to your body in such a way that you still maintain a string semblance of life. Undoing those bonds will be simple. However, there are two things I must say first.

"The first is a warning. You are, obviously, the only person to whom this condition has ever occurred. It is hardly a well-documented event. I have no idea what removing those bonds will do to you. The best-case scenario is that your soul returns to your body and you will continue to age from where you left off, no longer immortal. As a side note, I have no idea how this affects your regenerative powers. Might be something you want to test before you get a knife stabbed in you again." Tu-Ankh winced at the memory as Smurt continued on.

"However, there are other outcomes. For example, severing the ties may cause your soul to finally leave as it was prevented from doing so long ago, killing you outright. Or, as a worst-case scenario, your soul is utterly destroyed by the force of the bonds being removed."

Tu-Ankh opened his mouth to tell him what he thought of the necromancer's outcomes, but he waved his hand and continued speaking.

"Before we go in depth about what will occur, we need to discuss prices. I'd rather talk about them when you are still nice and compliant, and not dead or newly alive and ready to book it out of here. As such, any price that I ask of you will be given to me before I help you in any way. Please note that if you backstab me in any way, literally or metaphorically, my forces will not rest until you are slain. Do you understand?"

_He sounds like a sergeant-at-law_, Telimperion thought to herself. However, she said "Yes" along with all the others. Smurt surveyed them once, as though he could assess the truth of what they were saying through his eyes alone. Then, he continued with his tirade.

"I find so little value for ordinary treasures such as money or simple favors. I've found in the end that all power really translates to knowledge; knowledge can make up any other lacking given enough of it. Even that simpleton Chovek has realized this. Though he lacks a great deal in the finer workings of true inner knowledge, nothing has stopped him from collecting what information he can. And like him, in this case it is information that I desire.

"You see, the Shapet are, aside from Sauron, seen as a pinnacle of the art. No other people have been able to work the same magic when it comes to binding souls to this world. As you well know, the Shapet are the only ones who have figured out how to make a man like yourself, surpassing even Sauron in this act. Sauron, on the other hand, figured out how to use his magic to warp and stretch time far past its normal capabilities. Admittedly, his solution had a few flaws, but the elves were still able to use to create the rings of power.

"Anyway, what I want from you is all your knowledge of the Shapet. I will extract it directly from your brain. When we are done here, none of you will remember being here. You will remembering spending the last few days having spent the time in the company of the Elves, who you bumped into because you were looking for a way to get closer to the King. Other details will fill themselves in."

Tu-Ankh stared blankly at Smurt. Of all the prices he could have been asked to pay, this was not the one he was expecting. He had been expecting to pay with his servitude, or with a normal exchange of knowledge. Wiping out all of his knowledge of the Shapet would be destroying to his mind.

"Would that not remove all of my memories, since that was who I am for thousands of years?"

Smurt shrugged. "Most likely, you would remain the same person. I can't outright destroy all of your memories. Instead, they would be altered because your brain would be lacking original context for them. Most likely, when you regain consciousness, you'll see yourself as a person from a nearby tribe."

"Can I talk with my companions?"

"Go right ahead."

Tu-Ankh turned around and addressed them directly. "What do you all think? I, personally, am prepared to do this, even if it means losing all my memories. After all, if I die here, then there won't even be any memories for me to lose, and you guys will just go about your lives as though I never existed."

"I didn't realize how much this would cost," said Telimperion. "However, I think it is still worth going through. I think that, soon, we will all find ourselves presenting our cases in front of the King."

"I agree," Síthiel murmured. "In the end, I have faith you will get justice for the millennia you have spent struggling. I have faith that everything will turn out well."

Helgalad spoke up next. "I do not know you as well as the others, but I can see clearly that you are suffering greatly with this curse over you. I would take up the necromancer's offer."

Tu-Ankh looked at each of them carefully and nodded. "Well then, I guess there's nothing else to say." He turned back to Smurt. "I accept your offer."

Smurt stood up from his chair and walked over to Tu-Ankh, placing his hands on his head. "Good," he muttered. Then, Telimperion and the others perceived no more.


	19. Chapter 18

_ It's interesting how, despite the many negative things that he has done, what Sauron is saying has caused some good to come of all this. Namely, his heresies have, in addition to breeding other heresy, which is less than ideal, also caused some people to seek to explore beyond the knowledge that we had before._

_ Never before have I seen our people consider ideas so radical as these. There are people out there hypothesizing everything from the idea that our world is not actually flat to the idea that this world is all but a dream of Eru's. It is as though some crazy spirit of philosophy has descended upon this island._

_ In one startling case, there are people who insist that this world is without meaning in its present state and seek to find some meaning to it in other forms. While most people who believe this tend to be artists and the like, seeking to find beauty in this world, there do exist a far more extreme group of people._

_ These people experiment with all manner of chemicals, finding a way to try to "free their minds of this world." Most others deride them and call them "Delusionals". Still, there is a part of me that wonders: is there something to what they are doing?_

_ Regardless, this isn't really a thing I should be letting myself be distracted by; right now, Ar-Pharazôn needs my help more than I need help, no matter what I feel. The poor man grows looser and looser with each day. Our King must be happy, even if it is at my cost._

-From _the Abridged Journals of __Arnuzîr_

* * *

><p>Altariel, Sam, and the orcs were making much faster progress now that they were being led by Taburz, who actually knew where he was going. In addition, not having to fight orcs every step of the way greatly sped up their progress.<p>

Occasionally, they did run into a group of orcs that had fallen under the influence of IT. However, these orcs behaved erratically, not really understanding the circumstances they were up against. Altariel and Taburz were able to neutralize them easily.

At last, they had made it into the center of the ruined city. By this point, the snow had finally stopped falling. However, the snow that had fallen was quite thick and was getting to be difficult to navigate through.

"What exactly are we looking for?" asked Altariel.

"I believe that IT is hiding directly underneath the center of the city, manipulating the orcs that it has been able to sway to its control. From there, it has planned all of its assaults. From here, I also believe it had an influence over the Witch-king himself."

"What makes you say that?"

"In the last few days of his time spent here, before Sauron called him to Mordor, his behavior was strange, even for him. I think that may be why Sauron called him back before he asked any of the others to return; he was beginning to slip under IT's influence, something even Sauron was worried about."

Taburz was about to say something else, when that same telepathic shrill sounded across the city again. I KNOW THAT YOU SEEK ME. I KNOW THAT YOU WISH TO KILL ME. YOUR DREAMS ARE WEAK. I SHALL NOT LET YOU OVERCOME.

At once, the world around them was warped into some dark reflection of what it once was. They were still in a ruined city, but there was no longer any light around them. All was shrouded in darkness. In addition, where there had once just been Altariel, Sam, Taburz, and the other orcs, Altariel could make out the horrifying outline of some terrifying abominations in the distance.

"What in the Iron Hells?" roared Taburz in terrified confusion.

An ugly, creeping laugh spread through his mind. He put his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to stop the sound.

WELCOME TO MY WORLD. IF YOU CAN DEFEAT MY FRIENDS, THEN YOU WILL FACE ME.

As soon as this message ended, the abominations turned on the orcs and began attacking. Taburz stood frozen in terror. Never in his life, not even in the most horrifying nightmares brought on by living in Carn Dûm, had he ever imagined that something like this would happen. All around him, his men were being destroyed by the terrors if this darkened city, and he felt powerless to stop it from happening. To him, unlike so many others, this city had been a home. However, he now felt it turning against him.

Altariel saw that horror was beginning to paralyze her companion and did the first thing that came to mind: she slapped him. Terror was replaced by shock in the look of Taburz as his mental functions began coming back online. "What the hell was that fer?" he asked angrily.

Altariel pointed towards the orcs. "Your people are fighting against those monsters and you were standing still and letting them die. Now is not the time to feel, take it from me. Go out there and help them!"

Taburz nodded, not trusting himself to talk, and ran off to aid those fighting. Satisfied that she had accomplished her first goal, Altariel cast about, looking for Sam. She saw him busy engaging one of the smaller terrors and ran over to him, quickly finishing it off with some thrusts from her sword.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Sam gave a nervous smile. "After Cirith Ungol and Mordor, I'm not sure there is a thing that makes me scared. Mister Frodo, in his own way, really prepared me for this adventure."

"Well, I'm glad that you're still functioning well. I feel like I'm going to need your support in the time to come."

"Oh, I hope not. I just want this to be all over so I can get back to the Shire!"

"You and me both," Altariel sighed.

She ran over to the closest of the monsters. These things were like nothing she had ever seen before. They were vaguely humanoid, but had no real facial features. In addition, instead of actual hands and feet their limbs just ended, as though they were a thought best left unfinished.

The monsters seemed not to react in the same way that normal, living beings would. Instead of falling over their wounds, they pretty much had to be shredded in order to actually fall. It was not enough to cripple them, they had to be destroyed.

Another strange thing about the monsters was that they had no blood. Altariel wasn't sure why, but that factor frightened her almost as much as their appearance. Though, admittedly, not nearly as much as that voice. Altariel was almost certain that, even when they were done here, that voice would be featuring prominently in here nightmares.

They had almost defeated all of the terrors, when a new one showed up. At its presence, all of the remaining creatures began heading toward it, as though they were trying to defend it. The creature raised its hand and lighting began to rain from it, hitting a wide spread of the orcs. Cursing, Altariel ran in, darting between the normal monsters.

She struck at the being with her sword, but the thing was strong, ready to withstand an insane amount of damage. It zapped down at her, but luckily she was able to dodge out of the way in time. With its attention focused on her, the orcs were able to advance on the remaining ones without drawing its ire.

Unfortunately, this meant that the total focus of its rage was focused on Altariel. She gulped, and the quickly began pushing her attack. Unfortunately, it appeared to have almost no effect. Maybe if she continued to her assault for hours, the monster would finally be worn down to the ground, but that sort of time was a luxury she did not currently possess.

The creature zapped out again. This time, Altariel was not lucky enough to fully dodge out of its way and it struck her leg. Off-balance, she couldn't dodge its next attack either. She closed her eyes, expecting a rather electrifying end. However, for some reason fortune smiled upon her that day.

The being missed, instead accidently vaporizing one of its guards. Altariel lost no time in getting up and renewing her assault, vowing to be more careful next time. Thankfully, there was no need. The orcs finally pushed through the ring of lesser beasts and came to her aid. The thing could not use its wide-spread lightning field at such a close range and was overcome by all the orcs stabbing at it.

It was soon replaced by another similar monster, but without all of its grunts surrounding it, it proved to be rather ineffective. Breathing hard, Taburz looked up into the dark sky. "Well, that was fun!" he called, though by his voice it didn't sound very fun at all. Altariel looked around and saw all of the dead orcs, slain fighting IT's minions. She knew that their deaths weighed as heavily on him as the deaths back in the Shire weighed on her.

"What's next?" he continued "Do we get to face you now? Or is there some other bloody monstrous challenge for us?" he screamed into the air.

He got back another terrifying laugh, followed by another chilling statement. YES, I BELIEVE THAT NOW IT IS TIME I REVEAL MY TRUE SHAPE TO YOUR HAPPLES KIND.

At once, they were brought back to the city as it normally was. The corpses of the monsters vanished, though the orcs remained behind. A portal formed in the center of the city; a monstrous gateway into the swirling darkness of the mad realm of IT. And, out of that portal, a figure stepped.

* * *

><p>Mermacil rode his men hard, trying to get to Faramir before the orcs back in Gorgoroth realized that they needed to seal up the passage way to Minas Ithil. Or, before they skipped that step and attacked Minas Ithil itself.<p>

He knew it would take them at least a couple of days to make it back to the pass, based on the length of time it had taken them to reach Drakarator on foot. However, he hadn't anticipated how quickly the horses they had been given would move through the desert. These animals were made for desert travel, and galloped across Nurn faster than Mermacil would have thought possible from any living thing.

After they left the site of the battle, they were able to cover a good bit of distance. However, because they had left sometime after noon had already passed, it was definitely nowhere near a full day's travel, even with these horses. They still had quite a bit ahead of them.

The next day, on the other hand, they made excellent progress. It was growing colder, partially because they were heading north and partially, Mermacil felt, because of the influence of the lieutenant that was summoning all those orcs in the first place. Regardless, the cooler weather allowed them to travel faster in the sun, and meant that they stopped less. By the end of the second day of their journey, they had covered around half of the total distance they needed to go.

However, Mermacil could see that everyone was clearly exhausted by the day's journey, especially the horses. Unfortunately, there was no way he could easy on them the next day either. It was vital that they get back to Faramir in time, or else the battle at the Vale would have been in vain.

Thus, even though he was still feeling the pain of sitting in a saddle for the whole day, once Mermacil's body felt that he had gotten enough sleep, he woke up straightaway and made sure that everyone else had as well. The sun had only just barely begun to rise at the edge of the horizon, but that didn't bother him. Mermacil knew with every inch of his body that all that mattered was his getting the message to Minas Ithil. In the end, that was it.

Today felt even colder than the previous day, though Mermacil was no longer sure whether that was actually because of the weather or if he simply just felt that things were that way. The others did not say anything, but that was most likely because they sensed that complaining or talking about the weather would not have made an impact on him one way or another. In addition, talking wasted further energy that didn't really need to be wasted.'

Mermacil considered it a miracle that they did not encounter any scouting tribes of orcs. The last thing that he needed in this case was an attack by orcs, but it seemed as though they no longer cared about maintaining their secrecy. To be fair, it was unlikely that the Maia felt that anything posed a threat to him. As far as he knew, by the time that the might of Gondor could be rallied, he would have invaded Nurn already. Mermacil dearly hoped to prove him wrong.

Still, Mermacil considered with some distaste, there was also the chance that Haihatur simply didn't see Gondor as a threat either way. That worried him a little. Although he knew that the numbers of the orcs on Gorgoroth were vast, he hadn't really gotten a precise count. If he was off by even the smallest magnitude, it could have dire impacts on the resulting confrontation.

Eläre briefly wondered about the fate of the men fighting the battle at the Vale. She, unlike Mermacil, had been watching the fate of each one closely, and her sharp eyesight had made her more than aware of what had befallen the men on the front lines. Savaged by the initial onslaught of the orcs, which even their formations could not totally protect against, they were also hit by the second assault, and there were even some people that were unfortunate enough to be struck by the arrows.

She hoped that the people of Drakarator recovered well. She resolved to find some way to make it up to them afterwards. After all, these people had risked their lives in order to protect her and her friends, going so far as to shelter them, defeat the orcs, and speed them on their way to Gondor.

Kith'tar was buried even deeper into introspection than was normal for him. Even the most empathetic of people would have had difficulty reading his mood and guessing what he felt. Often grim and laconic by nature, being back and Nurn had not done wonders for his personality, nor had talking with the Drakatorim.

Those who were skilled in reading people and knew something of Kith'tar would have had a few guesses about what he felt. Some, undoubtedly, would have surmised that he felt reminded of the circumstances of his leaving and felt ashamed. Others would have guessed that he felt glad to be rid of Nurn, but somewhat saddened to feel that way. The especially perceptive may have thought that he was saddened to see how little both he and the land had changed. But in the end, all these conjectures were but guesses.

Lt. Samnon was troubled. He had wanted to participate in battle, but had been held in the reserves and had been sent off before anything exciting could truly happen. He couldn't help but wonder if the denying of action had been some sort of bizarre punishment for something he had done, but he couldn't think of any justification. All he knew was that he had better get some action when they went and fought the main body of the orcs.

Hannish, looking back on the days they had spent in Nurn, felt happy. Although he didn't often talk about it, he often wondered how other parts of the world fared now that Sauron had been desiccated. Deep down inside, sometimes he wondered how much the victory of the Free Peoples so many years ago had actually changed. However, it seemed that Nurn was doing much better than the elders of that region reported it had been. Of all five, Hannish was the only one truly happy with how things worked out.

At the end of the day, the team had made amazing progress towards Minas Ithil. Mermacil could see the tower of Cirith Ungol close by, perhaps only a few miles in the distance. For the first time in many hours, he spoke.

"Good work, everyone. I feel strongly that after a good rest tonight, tomorrow will be the last leg of our journey. Tomorrow, we report directly to our Lord Faramir, and sleep in our own beds"

"Thank goodness," said Eläre. Mermacil could detect real relief in her joking comment.

The others, too tired to talk, contented themselves with bedding down for the night. Each of them was too tired to even remember their dreams. Perhaps it was for the best that they didn't. With the Maia so close by, their dreams would have been on par with what Altariel experienced. Though, nowhere near as bad as what Liriel was going through.

The sun was over the horizon this time when Mermacil finally awoke. He cursed himself for his laziness and then quickly got up, rousing everyone faster than he had before. Although Mermacil was driven in spirit, there was only so much his human body, unused to field work for so long, could take.

They rode to the tower. Thankfully, the orcs had not yet thought to occupy the tower, or else Mermacil's mission may have come to a rather depressing end. As it was, Mermacil thought that the orcs may have pulled further away from the Ephel Dúath. If their intention was to hide from detection, he though grimly, they were far too late.

Before they could ascend to the level of the tower and then through the pass, they were forced to abandon their horses. Though efforts had been made in the past decades to make Cirith Ungol more inviting, many things had stopped them.

First, funding for such a project was always being diverted elsewhere. After all, the only thing the pass really was used for were projects like Mermacil's, which wasn't the largest concern of the Sceptre, except for in dire situations like this. Second, the various stairs had been carved by either ancient Gondorian craft or some skill of the Enemy, as was extremely difficult to work. Third, and most concerning, although Samwise Gamgee had wounded Shelob, no one was quite certain what had happened to her. And, no one was really very keen to find out. Thus, horses were still unable to make it through the pass.

Mermacil was somewhat concerned that the horses would be discovered by the orcs and would tip them off. However, it was more likely that the horses, being intelligent, would either find their way back to Nurn, or the orcs, being unintelligent, would misinterpret what their presence meant.

The five began the last leg of their journey, heading through what was once Shelob's lair. The passage of several decades meant that now it was at least a little wider, somewhat less covered in cobwebs, and even had a few torches stored at the entrance that could be lit by Hannish's fire kit. Through that place they passed quickly, and thankfully without incident. To say the least, today was a bad day to verify that the legends of Shelob were true.

They quickly ran down the stairs, though they had to be careful. Mermacil tried to go faster than on their way in, reasoning that it was easier to descend the stairs than to claim them. However, in truth, it was more effort-inducing to control their descent and prevent themselves from falling down the stairs, which would have been a most unfortunate end to the mission.

By the time they came to the end of the stairs, while the sun had not fully gone down, the moon and the first stars were present in the night sky. Now, all they had to do was pass through the vale and get to Minas Ithil.

That simple stretch was, by far, the hardest distance that Mermacil had walked in his entire life. It seemed so simple compared to the awful angle of the stairs, but somehow the short walk through sapped him of all energy. Maybe the awful toll of the past week had finally caught up to him. Perhaps the sadistic energies left over from when this place was still called Morgul Vale were working against him. Either way, Eläre, several times, was forced to come over and find some way to motivate him into moving once again.

The wind, which had contented itself to breezing along lightly while they struggled down the steps, now picked up to great intensity, chilling the party to the bone. Mermacil finally felt himself collapse, simply unable to pick himself up and carry on. And Eläre found that she couldn't bring herself to encourage life into him. There, they would have ended for the day, so close to their goal and yet lacking the conviction to reach it. However, fortune seemed to smile upon them.

Mermacil heard, far off as though separated by a much greater distance, the beating of horse hooves coming closer to them. "Who's there?" called a voice. Getting no response, they rode closer, shining a lamp over them.

"Blessed Valar, it's Mermacil's group!" called another man.

"Quickly, get them back to the city immediately!" called a third voice, this one a woman.

Mermacil felt himself be put on the back of a horse, though he still was not quite aware to actually participate. The next thing he was really aware of, he was in a warm room. If he had the mental strength he would have surmised that he was back in tower, but as it was he had only one concern.

"Lord Faramir…" he managed to get out. "Where?"

"I am over here, my faithful servant. It looks as though you have journeyed hard to get back here. I must admit, I am very curious to know what you have been doing to require such haste," Faramir said.

Mermacil found himself invigorated by Faramir's voice. He was able to turn his head toward that sound, and observed that he had been laid on a makeshift bed in front of a fire in one of Faramir's rooms.

"My lord, my apologies for the state of my arrival," he began.

Faramir waved him off. "Any other time, I would be a little disappointed. However, I can see that you had something of clear importance that was hard to get to me. Please, speak freely about what you need to."

Mermacil took a deep breath. Already, between the fire and Faramir's calm yet strong voice, he was beginning to return to normal. "When we came up the pass into Gorgoroth, we discovered that a massive host of orcs had gathered there. It was difficult to judge the precise amount of orcs, as they were spread across what I could see, but I would say that there were at least 100,000 of them.

"From there, we decided to figure out what those orcs were doing there before reporting back to you. Infiltrating the camp was unfortunately not possible, so we elected to head into Nurn to find what information we could. We discovered that the orcs had been summoned by a former lieutenant Maia of Sauron's named Haihatur. He had called them there in an attempt to fill the power vacuum left by Sauron.

"Unfortunately, while on the way to Nurn we attracted the attention of the orcs, who sent a small force of a few hundred after us. The Drakatorim were able to defeat them in a rather skilled battle, and then sent us on our way."

Faramir sat back, his face ashen. "That's a lot to take in," was his eventual response. But he was taking to no one. Mermacil had finally collapsed, his energy completely spent. Faramir signaled to a messenger who was standing nearby. "Elessar will want to hear of this, I am sure," he sighed.

* * *

><p>A few days had passed since Parthekos had told the first tale of the grand mythos he planned to teach to the orcs. He had decided to not spend those next few days telling more tales, reasoning that spacing out his stories would give his audience enough time to not want to hurt him after he told each story and also possibly heighten the suspense of what came next.<p>

In that time, he spent his mornings helping Wilazûrûzj with writing down the tales of the tribe. Some of the tales he had heard in that time were genuinely interesting and he wondered at their origin in the tribe. Some tales, he noted with great personal amusement (for he didn't dare tell Wilazûrûzj this) were clearly based on tales told in Gondor. Some were even based on elven tales.

Unfortunately, most of the tales were just really boring. Some of that had morals that didn't really apply to the orcs anymore, and hadn't applied to them in a long time. Others were based on joked that were probably old when Barad-dûr was built. Some were theoretical tragedies, but since orcs had trouble determining real life from tragedy they were ridiculously over the top. Some were just downright nonsensical.

In the evening, when he was no longer being made to copy, he spent his time writing down the stories that he was going to be reading to the entire group. He had a feeling that having it written down would come in handy, especially if something was to happen to him.

However, tonight Parthekos decided that it was time for him to tell the next story. Although he had promised to talk about the creation of the Cælestis, he had remembered a story that he considered a little more interesting, even if it meant jumping around a little in the chronology. He opened the same way he had the night before: banging two platters together. Once he felt that a significant amount of attention had been garnered from the orcs, he began.

* * *

><p>When the universe was first created, life was extraordinarily dangerous. Zau would try to make life flourish everywhere she could, but it was usually destroyed in some struggle between M'lat and N'zogu. Heizdi began feeling overworked, and though she usually opposed Zau in everything she did, for once she felt that something needed to be done.<p>

At first, she tried to meet with N'zogu, hoping that he would see reason and that his constant warring was doing as much harm as good. However, N'zogu was nothing if set into routine, and refused to believe that any more Life would come from deviating from his path. In vain, she tried to convince him that Chaos did not need to be battled everywhere, but she failed. Even one of his one of his few children could not move him.

Next, both Heizdi and Zau went to Dupri to see if she could broker some sort of compromise. However, Dupri told them that if she tried to prevent them from fighting, it would definitely imbalance the delicate system that had been created by Croqi, and that was not something that Dupri intended to mess with. Also, it would probably result in just as much death.

The best that Dupri could offer was to attempt a compromise with M'lat. However, M'lat had, over the course of the eons in which the gods fought, grown more erratic. While N'zogu had grown more set in his ways, M'lat had become steadily less stable (and there's a greater reason for this, but that is something to worry about later). He refused to listen to Dupri, and in fact may not have been able to understand her at all in the first place.

Heizdi was now rather upset. She was the most powerful of all primordials, to the point that all the other gods, even the Timely Ones, had reason to fear her. However, in this struggle she felt powerless. The stress of her role weighs heavily upon Heizdi at all times, which is why she does not always react rationally and can be prone to outbursts. It is dangerous work, being a priest of Heizdi.

Heizdi had her first famous breakdown as a part of this tale. Made so despondent by her failure to reach a solution, she drifted through the vastness of Dupri, no longer caring to work against Zau. As you can imagine, the fact that Death had decided to depart caused many problems, especially for N'zogu.

Although Zau's creations were being destroyed in the many battles of the universe, without someone there to take their soul, the spirits of the dead would linger on long past their proper times. These ghosts soon became a large problem, as they spread with no control over them, inhabiting world after world.

Now, Heizdi did not entirely abandon her care of the dead. In the end, she was a daughter of Order and could not so easily abandon its strictures. In the end, this was not good for her though. Her break down caused her most lawful part to split from her, in a most painful schism. The entire universe still reverberates from her sobs.

The part of her that split off became their own god, Idruz, the god of ghosts. Owing to them, Heizdi herself is no longer quite as powerful as she used to be. However, when she and Idruz team together, there are few who can actually stop them. Idruz was the first of the Ancients, that third generation of gods, and is generally accorded with the most respect, even if not the most power.

Idruz gave the ghosts order and control, but there was only so much that they could do. In the end, the very existence of ghosts was a problem in most cases, and all of the gods, even the crazed M'lat and the solid N'zogu, agreed that a solution must be reached. Zau, remembering that this was in part the fault of how Heizdi had tried to help her, was the most invested in reaching a solution.

Meanwhile, in addition to neglecting her duty, Heizdi was also disrupting an important part of the balancing act between order and chaos. Besides the fact that she had an individual duty as a goddess to perform a job, she was also a valuable lieutenant in the fight against M'lat. During ordinary times, she was fierce rivals with Rizif, the goddess of mystery, and bitter enemies of Bedao, the god of passion. However, in her absence these two were able to do largely as they pleased, causing greater problems.

Further, Heizdi had always been a dangerous goddess to be around. And now, broken by her failure, hurt by the loss of Idruz, and generally uncaring, she cared not for those in her path. Everywhere she wandered was either rent apart by the deadly rage that followed in her path, or consumed in the same madness she bore. Ironically, she could not have opposed her original cause in a greater fashion.

Now, some context must be given. At this point in history, our comfortable little world did not yet exist. Azao, Latao, and Sermri, gods of the sun, moon, and earth respectively, at this time represented every sun and moon and every planet that exists within Dupri. Thus, it was that they did not have the special hosts they would one day be given and were, for now, content still to wonder about the universe (but that is, alas, a story for another day).

At this time, with Heizdi incapacitated, the Timely Ones, as usual unwilling to act, and Croqi having retreated back to the shadow after having created the Cælestis, those same Cælestis were the most powerful option left to Zau and the other gods. As neutral entities, they were the most able to intervene without compromising the Great Balance. Azao and Latao agreed to try to bring reason back to Heizdi.

Finding her was easy enough; following the trail of despair was a simple task for anyone, let alone a god. However, actually talking to Heizdi proved to be more of a challenge. First, getting her attention proved to be a problem. She, still grieving, was so introspective that the gods found themselves unable to commune with her. That left the option of entering into the aura of destruction and madness that surrounded her to directly speak.

The Cælestis experienced an unusual feeling as they entered the aura: fear. The forces about Heizdi were far more powerful than they had been expecting. They were assaulted down to their core, battered by what would feel like a physical gale as well as the overwhelming depression of Heizdi's mind. It took all of their strength to protect themselves and not break.

Finally, they got through the swirling maelstrom and approached Heizdi directly. However, Heizdi was not rather enthused to see them. At this point in time, the gods would still fight physical battles directly, rather than relying on intermediaries or confining their fights to the mental realm. Each god had their own particular weapon that they would wield in these confrontations.

As you can well imagine, Heizdi wielded a scythe. The minute that Azao and Latao approached her, her scythe materialized and she swung at them. Latao luckily reacted in time, blocking the attack with her ranseur, or else the world we live in might be a rather different one. Imagine this place with no Sun or Moon; it's not easy is it?

Azao then made his flamberge and quickly counterattacked. At first, Latao and he attacked only to subdue Heizdi, but soon they were fighting for their lives. Between the fact that Heizdi had no such compunction over taking their lives, and that they were forced to devote a significant amount of energy to ward off the attack of the dark energies of Heizdi, they simply could not afford to spend the extra effort of attacking to not kill.

At this time, no god had ever died, nor indeed had a god ever killed another god. It was uncertain to all except save for, perhaps, Croqi what the consequences of such a calamitous action would be. The devastation wrecked by Heizdi's abandonment of her post was awful enough, no one wished to imagine what would happen if she was killed. Would something come to replace her? Would another god come to replace her? Or would their problems only become permanent?

The three battling gods fought long and at great length. However, no matter how they tried, Azao and Latao could not gain the upper hand over Heizdi. Though this has since changed, her power was individually greater than either of them, and together they were barely enough for her and her madness. After what seemed to be an eternity of struggle, the two gods were forced to pull back. They could no longer keep out the madness, and there was no way they could ever risk being lost to it. The effect of losing the three most powerful of the primordials would possibly have doomed all of creation.

The Cælestis realized that in the end, there was only one way to resolve this conflict. Utilizing a last-resort ability that Croqi had given them when they were created, they summoned all of the gods. Even Croqi herself, had been see but once since the creation of the Timely Ones, was dragged away from her slumber to attend this great godsmoot.

Croqi was greatly angered to be forced to intervene, and quickly forced a solution down upon the other gods. Through some great ability of hers, she created two new goddesses from nothingness. These goddess were Junian, the goddess of age, and Luoyan, the goddess of control.

To Junian was given the task of defending Zau and all of life. She was forever commanded to, whenever a fight would break out that put lives in danger, to intervene and do what she could to prevent unnecessary death. She also was responsible for slowly leading living beings from Zau to Heizdi and, when they actually died, to ferry them into Heizdi's realm. She served as an intermediary for those two, who never got along quite as well as they used to.

Luoyan had only one job: to prevent something like what happened to Heizdi from ever occurring again. She would shadow the other gods and actively work to prevent them from breaking down in the same way. Owing to the fact that she does her best to know everything about the mental state of all the gods, she is opposed by Rizif and Tyriq.

The first thing that Luoyan did was to approach Heizdi and force her back to sanity. Although no one is quite sure how she did it, owing to the massive differences in power between the two goddess, somehow Luoyan succeeded and restored the world to normal.

Before receding back into the darkness, aware of what had almost happened in the three-way confrontation between Azao, Latao, and Heizdi, Croqi laid down some rules regarding what would happen if a god killed another god. She said that a new god would appear to replace the old god, but there would be differences between those gods, although they ruled over the same domains. She also declared that anyone found guilty of murdering another god would be subjected to a punishment, but she was not more specific than that.

Lastly, before hiding away again, Croqi left behind something so that the law she had declared would be followed. She said that the job of the thing was to enforce the laws she made and that these laws were applicable to all. Although technically not a god, it was given the name Gouji and is considered a part of the pantheon.

And so, in the end, four new gods were created, Heizdi was returned to normal, and Croqi briefly returned to arbitrate over the gods for one of the last times in the life of this universe.

* * *

><p>This time, after he had finished, Parthekos had more orcs that had stayed throughout the entirety of his lecture, and even a few that were showing quite a large amount of attention considering that they were orcs. When all the other orcs had gotten up and left, undoubtedly to take care of business before retiring to bed, five orcs stayed behind, as well as Bolozji, the young orc who had spoken with him the last time he talked.<p>

The six orcs were all rather young; they must have been in their twenties at best. From what he recalled of the various roles of orcs in the camp, they all came from different jobs within the camp, which was a rather interesting statistic. The orcs bombarded him with questions about various gods, laws of the universe, and about a few hints for other stories that Parthekos had left. He didn't say anything, overwhelmed and a little amused by the attention that they were giving him.

Finally, however, he grew a little tired of their nonstop nonsense and held up a hand. "Do not worry. All your questions will eventually be answered, one way or another. The most important thing right now is that you understand that patience is a virtue. Now, tell me your names, and who you are, so that I do not forget my first converts." He spoke softly, but within he was withholding a little irritation.

"I am Drazgat," one of the men said. "I work under the shaman Azinologa."

Parthekos stiffened slightly, surprised that one who followed shamanistic teachings would listen to him. He resolved to talk to Azinologa at a later date.

"I'm Wornuzj," the other man said. "I am one of the warriors that guard the borders."

"I'm Silizj and she's Akrûz," a girl said, pointing to a rather similar looking orc. "We're twins," she explained helpfully. "We both work with the apothecaries."

"I am Brakdug," said the last one, another girl. "I'm the oldest of us," she added proudly. "I'm not often here, because I work as a conduit with the other clans."

Parthekos nodded. "Thank you for telling me. I plan to tell another story tomorrow, so be prepared for then." Without sticking around to see their response, Parthekos walked back to his tent, resolving to write some more stories down.


End file.
